


Redemption

by Daenarii



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: (I promise), Angst, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Slow Burn, Talon - Freeform, United Nations, and also it's gonna have a fuckton of OCs, god program, like this is gonna be very self-indulgent, lots of talon., mostly takes place in Watchpoint: Gibraltar and Hanamura
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-10
Updated: 2017-10-09
Packaged: 2018-10-30 03:51:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 21
Words: 96,011
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10868481
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Daenarii/pseuds/Daenarii
Summary: Ahote Talas has made mistakes. He's done things he isn't proud of. When he finds a chance to find peace with himself in Overwatch, he grips the opportunity with both hands and doesn't let go, no matter what. What he finds is a new family with the international peace-seeking organization--and one DJ in particular. When the group is threatened by Talon, omnics, and the United Nations alike, Ahote has to balance fears from his past with a desire to protect those closest to him, or risk losing everything--again.





	1. Introduction

Lúcio rolled down the empty hallway, quietly humming a tune from a song he couldn’t quite recall. As he rounded a corner, he spotted Reinhardt. He smiled brightly at the giant man and waved.

“Hey, Reinhardt!” he greeted as he rolled past. He turned around, still rolling, so he could maintain eye contact with Reinhardt, who was walking in the same direction.

“Lúcio!” Reinhardt rumbled in response, his white beard split in half with a grin before it disappeared, a furrowed brow of confusion popping up on his face instead. “What is on your feet?” he asked as he looked down at the sneakers Lúcio was wearing.

“Heelys!” Lúcio responded, a grin still on his face. “They have wheels on the bottom!”

Reinhardt shook his head. “I still do not understand you kids!” he lamented. “Where do you _get_ these ideas?”

“Naw, man! They’re super old!” Lúcio argued. He would have kept talking, but he realized with a glance behind him that his turn was coming up. “I’ll see you at the meeting!” he said with a wave as he rounded the corner, skating forwards once again.

He heard Reinhardt rumble a farewell, but he couldn’t make out the specific wording. Undisturbed, he continued rolling down the hallway, his hands clasped behind his back.

At Watchpoint: Gibraltar, there were two rules everybody had to follow at all times. The first was to leave Winston alone if he was in his lab, while the second was to always attend the eight AM meetings held every Tuesday morning. The meetings were usually pretty standard--here are everyone’s assignments (AKA chores) for the week, this is what everyone should focus on training, and this is how long we have until our next abroad mission; thank you, make sure not to break anything, see you next week.

Lúcio had to hand it to Winston; the gorilla had it down to a science. Lúcio had joined pretty late in the game, but it had been obvious people were still getting it together; they’d barely been able to run one training session without a _deadly failure_ (Athena’s words, not his). These days, they were able to run two or three successful sessions, even on their off days.

When Lúcio came to the large, glass double-doors that led to the meeting room, he dropped his toes, stopping in place. Through the glass, he could see that a few of the other members were already seated around the long table. Genji and Zenyatta were seated next to each other near the middle of the table, Angie was sitting near the head of the table, where Winston was usually seated by the time Lúcio got there, and Mei was next to her, chatting animatedly. Torbjörn was sitting opposite of Angie, fiddling with a doodad of some sort (he was always working on something).

“Winston isn’t here yet?” Lúcio asked as he stepped through the glass doors. His voice echoed off of the bare walls, and everyone glanced back at him.

“He had some tests he insisted he had to finish,” Angie answered as Lúcio sat across from Zenyatta. “He said he would be on time.”

Lúcio glanced up at the digital clock on the wall: _07:56_. “Did he say what the tests were for?” he asked, swiveling his chair to face Angie. Winston was always working on some new device. They were almost always guaranteed to be awesome.

To Lúcio’s disappointment, she only shrugged. “I did not get a good look before he shooed me out,” she said apologetically.

Before he could respond, the unmistakable sounds of Reinhardt boomed throughout the room: the doors being slammed open (Lúcio was relieved they didn’t shatter), followed by loud, stomping steps.

Lúcio swiveled around in his seat again to face Reinhardt. With a smile, he greeted, “Hey, old man! Long time no see!”

“I am not _that_ old,” Reinhardt responded as he walked towards the head of the table, injury in his voice. After Lúcio frowned with concern, believing he’d actually hurt the man’s feelings, Reinhardt let out a booming laugh. “You should see your face!” he chuckled, collapsing in the seat opposite of Mei. The chair gave a _very_ loud groan of protest.

“And _you_ should be more careful,” Angie scolded. “Reinhardt, what have I told you about--”

“Weak knees and joints, yes, yes,” Reinhardt interrupted with a roll of his eyes. “I have told you before, Angela: I feel great!” he enthused with a large motion of his hands.

Angie opened her mouth to give an angry retort, but Genji cut in smoothly. “You should listen to Doctor Ziegler, Reinhardt,” he said, his voice level. “Her advice is sound.”

“I know her advice is sound,” Reinhardt replied, facing Genji. “I just do not listen to it, _ja_?”

Their conversation was interrupted when the doors crashed open ( _again_ ). Lúcio turned his head to see Winston rushing in, his glasses dangling precariously on the bridge of his nose as his arms clutched stacks of papers to his chest.

“Hey, Winston!” Lúcio greeted with a smile, sitting up straight in his seat.

Winston hurriedly walked to the head of the table. “Good morning, everyone,” he said. “Sorry I’m late.”

“You have about two more minutes before you will be designated as ‘late,’” Zenyatta chimed.

Winston paused after he dumped his stack of papers on the table to adjust his glasses and squint up at the clock on the wall. “Oh,” he said, before sighing. “Good.” He began to organize his papers, shuffling them together into neat stacks. “How’s everyone doing?” he asked, glancing up at the people gathered for a moment.

“ _Tired_ ,” Mei lamented, leaning back in her chair. “Why are these meetings so early, Winston?”

“You were asleep for thirty years,” Winston replied. “I would’ve expected you to be the last one to complain about it.”

“Cryostasis hardly counts as sleep,” Mei countered. “Besides--”

She was interrupted when someone entered with a loud yawn. Lúcio swiveled in his seat to see Hana standing in the doorway, rubbing at an eye and still in her pajamas. “Am I late?” she asked.

“Yooo!” Lúcio shouted. “Hana is in the _house_!” She smiled at him, but didn’t respond as she approached. If the dark circles under her eyes were any indication, she was probably too tired to think of something to say.

“Right,” Winston said slowly, eying Hana as she slid into her seat to Lúcio’s left, between him and Mei. “Seeing as it’s eight, let’s begin.”

“What about Jesse?” Angie asked as she shot a glance at the doors. “He still isn’t here.”

“Angela, you know he’s always late,” Winston said. “Besides, he’s probably right about to--”

Right as the words left his mouth, the doors swung open with a creak. Lúcio didn’t have to look to know it was McCree, but he did anyway. He was already all decked out in his gear, his cowboy hat sitting on his head and an unlit cigarillo pinched between his lips.

“I’m here,” he grumbled as he trudged towards his seat to Reinhardt’s left, across from Hana.

Winston watched him, his brow hanging low over his eyes as McCree’s spurs jingled quietly throughout the room. After McCree slumped into his seat (wasting no time in kicking his feet up onto the table), Winston sighed and turned to address everyone as a group.

As Winston began to dive into everyone’s assignments, Lúcio found himself tuning out. He tapped his fingers on the glass table in front of him, resting his head in his other hand as Winston droned on. He made sure to pay attention when Winston was directly talking about him--he wouldn’t hear the end of it if he forgot to do the dishes one night, and he was happy to help besides--but otherwise, his mind was elsewhere.

It’d been a few months since he’d gotten invited to Overwatch. McCree had been the one to recruit him; he remembered how amazed he’d been by the cowboy get-up. McCree had been waiting in an alley, and Lúcio had been walking home when he approached him. He was wary at first--random guys in alleyways were one of the first things he learned to avoid as a kid--but after he realized he was being asked to join Overwatch, he’d been excited out of his mind. He hadn’t hesitated before saying yes.

McCree had been startled; he’d tried warning Lúcio it wasn’t a decision to be made so hastily, that it’d be dangerous, he’d want to take some time to think about it, but Lúcio had been set. He was already traveling around the world to play his music; if he could do that _and_ help fight against evil, well, it was a dream come true.

“Finally,” Winston said, bringing Lúcio back to the present, “Agent Oxton should arrive later today. If you’ll recall, she was sent to try and recruit a new member named Ahote Talas. Please, if you see someone being escorted by Lena or myself, don’t shoot at them.”

There was a moment of silence before McCree sighed loudly. “It was a _mistake_ , alright?”

“You nearly killed Hana,” Winston replied, cutting a glare towards McCree.

“Look, she was in a giant metal robot,” McCree defended. “She was as protected as protected can get. ‘Sides, better safe’n sorry, right?”

Winston stared at McCree for a moment before he let out a loud huff, returning his attention to everyone else. “Meeting adjourned,” he grumbled, gathering up his papers again. Lúcio turned to Hana, intending to ask if she wanted to play a game or two before training for the day, but he was interrupted by Winston. “Lúcio, may I have a word?”

Lúcio nodded before flashing a smile at Hana. “I’ll catch you later, right, Hana?” he asked as he stood up.

“I’m going back to bed,” Hana grumbled between yawns. Lúcio chuckled a little before skating down to Winston.

“What’s up, boss?” he asked, coming to a halt right next to the gorilla.

“Please don’t call me that,” Winston requested, glancing up from his papers and at Lúcio.

“Sure thing, chief,” Lúcio replied.

“Or that.”

“Of course, sir,” Lúcio responded, a serious frown on his face. When Winston sighed, Lúcio smiled instead. “I’m just playin’ with ya, man,” he laughed. “Whaddya need?”

“You read Talas’ file, right?” Winston asked, turning to face Lúcio fully.

Lúcio nodded, a more somber expression overtaking his face. “Yeah,” he said. “All we know is that he used to be part of Talon until he went rogue about a year ago, right?”

Winston nodded. “Lena said he’s clean, but I want you to keep an eye on him. If he’s a sleeper, we need to be prepared. Understand?”

Lúcio nodded, a small furrow forming between his brows. “Sure, man,” he said, “but why are you asking me this? Why not, I dunno, Jesse? He seems a lot more spy guy to me.”

“Because when Jesse gets suspicious, he shoots,” Winston replied. “Besides, his usual method of getting to know someone is teasing them until they get too exasperated to tell him to go away. Lena tells me that’s not going to work this time.”

Lúcio nodded, absorbing the information. He wasn’t sure if he liked the idea of being a spy--sneaking around wasn’t his style. Still, he couldn’t exactly say _no_ to Winston. He was the reason the team didn’t fall back into ruins, and Lúcio was sure he’d thought long and hard about this.

“Sure thing, Winston,” Lúcio replied with a grin. “You can count on me.”

“Thank you,” Winston sighed, pushing his glasses back up his nose. “That’s all I needed.”

Lúcio nodded, then skated away with a wave. “I’ll see you during training!”

Winston just grunted in response. Lúcio rolled through the doors, musing about what he’d do with his downtime.


	2. Welcome Wagon

Ahote felt anxious. The past year, he'd been a cocktail of one part anxious and one part paranoid, but he felt predominantly anxious at that moment. He glanced at the woman to his left, who was piloting the airship with a neutral smile on her face.

She’d introduced herself as Lena Oxton, Overwatch agent. He’d never met her personally, but he remembered her. The other Talon agents seemed to be a little terrified of her, whispering about “the ghost, Tracer” over their meals.

She was thin; she could’ve been called willowy if she hadn’t been such an average height. Her mahogany hair was spiked in the most professional of ways, and if it hadn’t been for the giant glowing mechanism strapped for her chest, she would’ve seemed ordinary.

Ahote looked to the right, out the window, his arms crossed over his chest. They were flying over an ocean. The sun glittered on the waves like golden coins, and small islands seemed to crawl under the airship.

Ahote had his arms crossed and his jaw clenched, but at the sight, he tried to unwind the ball of nerves in the middle of his chest--at least a little. He had to remind himself Overwatch wasn’t Talon. He’d be able to leave whenever he wanted.

“I don’t mean to be nosy or anything,” Lena said, her voice shattering Ahote’s thoughts, “but why’d you agree to come with me?”

Ahote hesitated before answering, trying to think of a good response. It was only two beats before Lena spoke again.

“Of course, you don’t have to tell me. I was just curious, trying to make conversation; you seem like the quiet type, so I suppose I should let you be quiet, but not me. I love talking. Some of the others do, too, which is a blessing.”

“Tell me about them,” Ahote cut in while Lena paused to take a breath. She glanced at him, then shrugged.

“You’ll meet them all soon, but alright. There’s me, of course, and Winston, our favorite gorilla who I’m sure you’ve already heard all about. Angela--Mercy, if you’d like--is with us, and she seems a little reserved like you, but she’s a good friend. Jesse--McCree, sometimes--is a little kitschy, but he’s a wizard with that gun of his. Has funny jokes, sometimes, too. Sometimes. Reinhardt is very loud--I’m sure it’ll take some getting used to--but he’s friendly and gives the _best_ hugs.” She paused to take a breath, and it was then that Ahote noticed they were descending.

“Are we here?” he asked, trying to peer through the windshield and at the ground. He could see a roof, perhaps, large and metal and square, but not much else.

“Yes!” Lena chirped with a nod. “You’ll be able to meet everyone else soon, I’d wager. Welcome to Watchpoint: Gibraltar!”

Immediately after that, the rest of the compound loomed into view. Ahote felt a little intimidated at first; it was huge, and he spied some drones patrolling in several different areas. He began to map out a plan to figure out their routes should he need to escape without being seen. Before he knew it, the airship was docked, and he and Lena were stepping out of the vehicle.

The hangar was large and spacious. The only vehicle in it, however, was the one that Lena had been operating. There was a large window to showcase the bay--the azure sky was clear and there were seagulls flying. Ahote had to admit, it was a gorgeous view.

“One of the perks of the job,” Lena said with a snicker once she caught Ahote’s gaze. He looked at her, and she jerked her head in the direction of a metal door. “This way--I’ll give you the grand tour.”

As they stepped over to the door, Lena continued to chatter. “It’s strange that Winston isn’t here to greet you--he’s been here for the rest of the recruits--but from what the others have told me, he’s been incredibly busy with _another_ invention.”

“What is he making?” Ahote asked as he watched Lena approach the door. She pressed a hand to the left of it, and waited a moment before the door gave a quiet beep and slid open.

Lena waved her other hand, leading them through the door and into a small hallway with silver floors. “I don’t bother with asking,” she said. “He works so quickly these days--always picking up projects and dropping them off without a second thought. By the time I understand one project, he’s on the next.”

Ahote followed after Lena silently, taking care to memorize the route. She continued chatting animatedly. “These doors lead to the training rooms and armory. We have a large training room, for group and strike team exercises, but we have smaller ones, too, for personal training.” Ahote heard the sounds of crashing, shooting, and yelling coming from behind one door. “The armory is pretty awesome--it has all of the old Overwatch gear, plus some new things, so feel free to help yourself to whatever you’d like. Keep what you don’t want someone else to take in your room.”

They rounded a corner, walking past more rooms labelled as _training room_. Once they took a left at a fork, Lena continued, “This is the living area. There are plenty of rooms available for now, so everyone can have their own. I think you’re taking the last one, though, so if we recruit anyone else, we’ll have to start getting roomies. They’re pretty spacious, though, so I doubt you’ll have any problems. Let me show you yours!”

Lena didn’t stop talking until she stood in front of a white door at the end of the hall. She placed a hand to the left of it, and it beeped and slid open after a moment. “Once you’re registered in the computers, you’ll be able to open it yourself, lock it, whatever you’d like.” She stepped inside, and Ahote followed after her.

It was large--larger than Ahote was used to, anyway. Seven or eight feet in both width and length, and rather spartan; it had a bed shoved in the corner--gray sheets and bedspread already covering it--a desk in the opposite corner with a small chair on wheels, and a set of white doors on the wall adjacent to the entryway--a closet, Ahote assumed.

“The bathroom is across the hall,” Lena said, pointing through the door. “You’ll have to share with a few other people, but it’s pretty private--you’ll be able to shower in comfort, at least. You’ll be able to decorate your room however you want, but Winston has a strict no-eating policy, since it’ll attract all sorts of creepy-crawlies. Just make sure you clean up after yourself and he won’t be any wiser.”

Lena stepped back through the doorway, Ahote following after. She shut the door again with a wave of her hand, then led Ahote back down the hallway.

“Through that door is a library--barely anyone uses it anymore, since we’ve got wi-fi here, but it’s there if you’d like a quiet place that isn’t your room. That door over there has a stairwell that leads to the roof, which leads to the helipad--if we had helicopters, we’d probably go up there. As of right now, only Torbjörn goes up to do maintenance on the drones.”

Lena showed him several other areas--the gym (“For when you’d rather punch a bag than a bot!”), the meeting room (“Every Tuesday at eight AM!”), the medical room (“Domain of Angie, unless you’d like a strongly-worded letter from her!”), the command center (“Where we keep an eye on our agents in the field!”), and the kitchen (“Off-limits from one to five in the morning, unless you know how to sneak around!”). By the time the tour was nearly over, Ahote just wanted to sit in a quiet room for a few hours. He felt exhausted, and Lena’s incessantly perky voice wasn’t making things any easier.

“That’s pretty much it,” Lena said, and Ahote had to swallow his sigh of relief. “The only thing you haven’t seen yet is Winston’s lab, but I doubt he’ll ask you to go there anytime soon.”

“Thank you, Lena,” Ahote replied quietly, with a slight inclination of his head. “If it’s okay with you, I’m going to go back to my room and--”

“Not yet, you’re not!” Lena chirped, and Ahote felt his hopes crushed. “You’ve still got to meet everyone else!” Lena opened the door next to them and stepped inside. Ahote considered walking in the opposite direction before he sighed and followed after her.

“This is the rec room!” Lena introduced. Ahote glanced around the room; there was a kitchenette in the corner, complete with a refrigerator, microwave, and a counter island. The wall opposite the kitchen was made entirely of glass, boasting once again the beautiful bay surrounding the watchpoint. The sun was dipping lower, beginning to stain the sky yellow. There was a lounge area, where several plush couches and bean bags were strewn about. Adjacent to the kitchenette was a line of flashing arcade games, and next to those was a large television with a couch in front of it.

On the couch were three people; a man in an awful red sarape lounged across most of it, a cowboy hat tipped low over his face and an unlit cigarillo pinched between his lips-- _McCree,_ Ahote recalled. His legs were thrown over another man in a robotic white suit--Genji, though he’d never met the man before. Ahote had heard things. The third person on the couch Ahote didn’t recognize; he was perched on the armrest opposite of McCree, a dopey grin on his face. His dreaded hair was pulled up into a high ponytail.

“Hey!” Lena said, marching over to the couch. Ahote followed her about halfway across the room, then stopped, uncomfortably crossing his arms. “Introduce yourselves to Ahote!”

McCree lazily threw his head back to look at Ahote. Once their eyes met, the cowboy scrambled to his feet, reaching for his empty holster. “What the hell are _you_ doin’ here?!” he shouted as he moved. He glared down at his empty hand, before turning his glare to Ahote.

“Jesse!” Lena admonished, a large frown on her face. “What’s the matter with you? He’s our new recruit!”

“Like hell,” McCree growled, gaze still trained on Ahote. “I didn’t think _this_ was who you were recruitin’! Why didn’t Winston say anythin’?”

“Jesse,” Genji said as he calmly got to his feet, “please explain your concerns.”

“My _concern_ is that he’s tried to kill me!” McCree said. “More’n once, might I add! Got damn close a couple’a times.”

“And you tried to kill me,” Ahote said, slowly. “I haven’t got any ill will towards you. It’s in the past.”

McCree snorted. “Right,” he said. “In my line of duty, trustin’ someone who shot at you once is a recipe for disaster.”

“C’mon, dude,” the stranger--still perched on the armrest--said. “Winston wouldn’t have asked Lena to recruit him if he thought he was gonna kill us. Give it a rest, man.”

“You acted this way when Hana first joined us as well,” Genji reminded McCree. “Perhaps showing Ahote a little faith first will ensure he thinks of you as a teammate, and not as an enemy.”

“I’m gettin’ to the bottom o’ this,” McCree said. He stalked past Ahote, staring him down angrily. Ahote met his gaze impassively. When McCree was next to him, he leaned close and growled, “I’m _not_ trustin’ my life to _you_.”

“I’m not asking you to,” Ahote said in response. McCree continued to glare for a moment before he moved on. The door beeped as it opened, then slid shut with a quiet click behind him.

There was a beat of silence. “Hoo!” the stranger said as he stood up, clapping his hands. “That was _awkward_.” He stepped towards Ahote, extending a hand. “Call me Lúcio. I’m pretty sure I’m your neighbor.”

Ahote hesitated a moment before taking Lúcio’s hand and shaking it. “Neighbor?” he asked, brows furrowed.

“Yeah!” Lúcio said. “In the dorms--I’ve got the room next to yours.” After Lúcio released his hand, Ahote crossed his arms again. “If you’ve got a question or something, don’t be afraid to knock.”

“Thank you,” Ahote said, appraising the man before him. Lúcio seemed--Ahote wasn’t sure. Soft, perhaps? He had wide, innocent brown eyes, an easy grin, and a goatee on his chin. His skin was a warm dark brown.

Genji stepped around the couch, drawing Ahote’s attention. He gave Ahote a small bow as he said, “I am Genji. I apologize for Jesse’s behavior. He can be...rash, at times.”

“Rude and inconsiderate is more like it,” Lena grumbled.

Ahote nodded. “It’s no trouble,” he said. “I expected a reception like that.”

“Have you tried to kill lots of people in Overwatch…?” Lúcio asked slowly.

Ahote looked back at him, thinking, before giving a noncommittal shrug. “Not a lot,” he said. “A few, but not many.”

“Oh,” Lúcio said. “That’s, um, good to know.” He reached up to scratch at the back of his head, glancing away.

“Soooo,” Lena said, drawing Ahote’s gaze back to her. “We should go set you up with Athena, Ahote; make sure you can open all the doors.”

Ahote nodded at Lena before looking at the other two, who were slowly migrating back to the couch. “Thank you for not….” He directed toward them, then hesitated, looking for the right words.

“It’s no problem,” Lúcio said, waving him off. “Jesse just needs some time to cool off. He won’t run you out anytime soon, unless you let him.”

“I won’t let him,” Ahote replied.

“Good!” Lúcio said, sitting on the cushion of the couch. “You should go with Lena--I’ll see you around, man!”

Ahote gave Lúcio a nod before following Lena out of the rec room.

In the hallway, she gave him a knowing grin and a gentle nudge in the ribs (which he quickly moved away from). “That went well!” she said. “Well, about as well as can be expected, considering you attacked Jesse in the past. He’s all hot air, I promise; it’ll blow over eventually, you just have to give him time.”

“I’m not afraid of him,” Ahote said.

“Oh! I didn’t mean to imply you were!” Lena backpedaled. “I mean, Jesse can be scary when he wants to be, but I only meant to justify him not giving you such a warm welcome! I didn’t mean to imply you were scared or anything, because that’s ridiculous!” She stopped in front of a door, coughing into her hand a little. “This is the way into Athena’s core.” She placed her hand on the wall beside the door, and there was a beat of silence before the door chimed and slid open.

As the two of them stepped in, a cool female voice spoke throughout the room. “Hello, Lena.”

“Hiya, Athena!” Lena greeted. The room was large, paneled with shiny white tile on the walls, ceiling, and floor. There were large rectangular boxes sitting throughout the room, and a large central monitor with a console in the far wall. “I’m here to input our newest recruit into your system.”

“I will bring up the necessary form,” Athena chimed calmly. As Ahote and Lena walked towards the central monitor, a semi-blank form popped up. It had Ahote’s full name and age on it, but not much else. “Is this correct, Lena?”

“That’s him!” Lena chirped. “Good job, Athena. You can go ahead and ask him things.”

“Mr. Talas,” Athena said, “what is your date of birth?”

“May thirteenth, 2048,” Ahote answered, crossing his arms. He watched the monitor as Athena filled in the information.

“Where were you born?” she asked.

“Kykotsmovi, Arizona.”

“When did you join Talon?”

Ahote clenched his jaw. “I was twelve,” he ground out, trying to block out the memories.

“When did you leave?”

“About a year ago,” Ahote answered, relieved at the brevity of the questions.

“What have you been doing since?”

“I unloaded trucks for a Walmart in Flagstaff.”

“One last question, Mr. Talas,” Athena chimed. “What is your preferred callsign?”

Ahote hesitated before answering. He’d had one in Talon, though he’d always hated it. He knew he wanted to change it--but he wasn’t sure to what.

“You can just use your name,” Lena piped up. “Plenty of members--like Lúcio and Genji--do that.”

Ahote glanced at Lena before giving a nod. “Alright,” he said. “Ahote, then.”

“Thank you, Mr. Talas,” Athena said. “Please look over the information on the screen and verify it is correct. You may make any changes to fix information that is not correct, then press the ‘okay’ button.”

Ahote glanced over the form before he followed Athena’s instructions. After he did so, the keyboard parted to reveal a smooth pad.

“If you would please place your palm on the pad, Mr. Talas; this will let you open certain doors to areas you have clearance to.”

Ahote gently placed his right palm over the surface. It pulsed for a moment, and Ahote thought he felt something warm tickling his fingers, before something beeped. Ahote took his hand back, and the keyboard slid back into place.

“Thank you, Mr. Talas. Your identification number is zero-one-three. Should you need to access any terminal or computer, that and your handprint will be how you unlock it.”

Ahote nodded, though he realized too late that Athena likely couldn’t see it. “Thank you,” he said, though he felt a little silly talking to thin air.

“Welcome to Watchpoint: Gibraltar, Mr. Talas. Please enjoy your stay,” Athena said.

“Catch you later, Athena!” Lena said as she led Ahote out of the room. “Have fun with your algorithms!”

“Thank you, Lena,” Athena chimed before the door slid shut behind them, closing off the room.

“I think she liked you,” Lena informed Ahote with a grin as she led him down the hallway.

“She’s an AI,” Ahote said. “How could she?”

“Well, she’s very advanced,” Lena said. “She’s got a personality--she’ll get snarky with you if she doesn’t like you. You should see how she teases Jesse!” She snickered. “I think you’ll get along great here, Ahote. You’ll feel like part of the family soon!”

Ahote nodded, absorbing the words silently, before he asked, “Where are we going now?”

Lena stopped walking, a frown on her face. “Well,” she said, “that’s pretty much the end of the tour. The only thing left to do would be to introduce you to the rest of the team, but they’re all busy training or inventing right now, I’d wager. So….” Lena shrugged at Ahote. “The world is your oyster!”

Ahote lifted a brow a fraction at Lena’s choice of expression before he nodded. “I see,” he slowly said. “Thanks for your help, Lena. I think I’ll head back to the library and read a bit, if that’s alright.”

Lena nodded at Ahote with a smile. “Sure!” she chirped. “Sounds great! Reading’s not really my thing, but as long as you like it, that’s good! Will you be able to find your way there alright? I can always show you the way again! It can get confusing here, you know.”

Ahote shook his head. “Thank you, but I’ll be fine,” he said.

Lena looked doubtful, though she nodded. “Alright,” she said, slowly. “If you get lost, you’ll be able to ask Athena for directions at any terminal. Oh! And before I forget, dinner’s served in the mess hall at seven tonight--that’s….” Lena trailed off as she lifted a hand to peer at her watch, her eyes narrowed. “In seven hours!” She put her hand back down. “The mess hall is through the kitchen. We don’t normally have dinners together, but whenever a new recruit comes, we find that eating dinner together is the best way to welcome them into the fold. You’ll come, won’t you?”

Ahote nodded. “Of course,” he said.

Lena smiled brightly at him. “Great!” she said. “I’ll leave you to it, then! Welcome to Overwatch!”

Ahote nodded at her again before he turned away from her, walking down the hallway. He heard her perky steps going the other way.

He swallowed a sigh of relief. Lena was kind enough, but she was exhausting to be around. He felt much better when the halls were silent, save for his own steps echoing slightly. He couldn’t help but be reminded of his time at Talon. The hallways were similar between the two facilities--empty and almost clinical, in a way. There were stark differences, though; at Talon’s base, Ahote had always been escorted. He couldn’t be trusted to walk alone. Here, Lena let him off the hook as soon as her role of welcome wagon was fulfilled.

He wasn’t sure where he wanted to go. He told Lena he was heading to the library to keep her from coming with him, but he was too anxious to actually sit and read anything. He didn’t know anyone here, and he barely knew the compound; he doubted he’d be able to read for awhile.

Ahote hadn’t joined out of a desire to save the world or protect peace. He hadn’t come because he hated omnics, or because he wanted to help further their cause. He’d come because he was afraid. He knew Talon would come knocking eventually, and if he was alone, he wouldn’t be able to deny them. If he could hide for long enough in Overwatch, though….

His thoughts were interrupted by a muffled shout, coming through the door at his side. He looked up, his eyes skimming over the “group training room” sign next to the door.

Ahote hesitated, considering going in. He was unsure if he’d be allowed to--he was part of the team, sure, but it was obvious he still wasn’t trusted--not by everyone.

He continued to gnaw on his lower lip for a moment, staring at the door, before he shook his head and moved on. He would have plenty of time to study their techniques, when they didn’t think he was still with Talon.

Ahote decided to walk the halls, to familiarize himself with the compound. He kept an eye on the time as he went, memorizing routes and trying to block out haunting ghosts of his past.


	3. Dinner

Ahote ended up walking the compound, familiarizing himself with the paths and routes and locations. He figured out the most efficient path from his room to the hangar, and from his room to the library, and from his room to the roof. He came across several rooms Lena hadn’t shown him, though he didn’t investigate them too much; they mostly seemed to serve storage purposes, and were dark and dusty.

After Ahote was sure he had a good grip on the layout of the building, he had about four hours before the dinner (according to the clock in his room). At a loss for what to do, he decided to head back to the rec room; getting to know the others would be advantageous, he was sure.

When he reached the rec room, he was almost disappointed to find it was empty. Noises and music from the arcade games permeated the air, and a news anchor spoke from the television. The volume was too low for Ahote to hear at the door, but as he approached the television and sat on the couch, he could make out the words.

“. . . news, controversy surrounds the omnium in Japan. Locals that live nearby report hearing the sounds of machinery working at night, and seeing lights. When officials investigated, they found no evidence to suggest that the omnium is operational again. Officials have promised to keep a close eye on the facility, and--”

Ahote stopped listening when he heard the door beep open. He looked up over the top of the couch at the door, his eyes narrowed a little. Four people entered--one was a short woman with a round frame, dark brown hair, and thick glasses. Next to her was a taller and thin woman, golden hair pulled into a bouncy ponytail. The third person was a giant of a man, white hair covering his face save for a giant scar ( _Reinhardt_ , Ahote thought--there was no mistaking that big of a man), and the fourth was a young woman with brown hair cascading down to her stomach.

The blonde woman was the first one to spot Ahote. “Oh!” she exclaimed, drawing everyone else’s attention to her, then to Ahote. “Hello, there! You must be the new recruit!”

Ahote nodded as he pushed himself to his feet, turning to face the group. “Yeah,” he said. “I’m Ahote.”

The blonde woman smiled at him, guarded, though she didn’t move forward. “I’m Angela,” she said.

“Hana,” the woman with longer brown hair said, nodding her head slightly. She looked a little bored, if Ahote was being completely honest.

“Reinhardt!” the large man greeted at a near-bellow. He stomped towards Ahote, offering his hand. “Good to meet you!”

Ahote wordlessly shook the large man’s hand as the final woman piped up, “I’m Mei!” As Ahote took his hand back from Reinhardt, he glanced at Mei, who gave him a nod.

They lapsed into silence, everyone staring at Ahote for a moment. “Um,” he said, the idea that he should say something weighing down on him, “thank you for the warm welcome.”

“Of course!” Reinhardt rumbled as he stepped around the couch to sit. The sofa gave a creak.

“We heard how Jesse reacted,” Mei said. Her voice was high and a little quiet. She stepped over to the sofa as well, sitting on the armrest. Ahote slowly lowered himself back into his seat, careful not to slide against Reinhardt (thanks to the dip in the cushions the large man made).

“Don’t take it too personally,” Hana said. She stepped over to the arcade machines, setting her hands on her hips as she peered at them. “I think he does that with everyone he doesn’t recruit himself.”

“It’s fine,” Ahote said. “He has every right to be wary.”

Angela sat on a bean bag that she’d dragged over from the lounge area. “At least we know your capabilities!” she said. “I had to patch up many agents, thanks to your, ah….” She trailed off, likely looking for a word that wasn’t offensive.

Ahote offered her a tight-lipped smile. “Sorry,” he said. “Talon doesn’t really give you a choice.”

Angela nodded, understanding, as Hana called from an arcade game, “What were they like? Do you have any information we can use against them?”

“That’s something he should discuss with Winston,” Angela, thankfully, replied. “You’ll know soon enough, Hana.”

“Well, we might as well get to know the guy,” Hana argued, glancing at Angela over her shoulder. “We’re going to be fighting with him!”

“That does not mean we should pry into his personal life,” Angela admonished. She frowned at Ahote. “I apologize for her,” she said. “Hana--”

“Don’t apologize for me!” Hana yelled. “I take responsibility for my actions.”

“--Can be inconsiderate sometimes,” Angela finished with a grimace.

“She’s alright,” Ahote said, tapping his foot on the ground. He felt uncomfortable with so many eyes on him; he wanted to leave. “I’ve faced worse.”

“See?” Hana said. She’d stopped playing the game, and stepped in front of Angela, her hands on her hips. “He thinks I’m fine.”

“Be quiet,” Reinhardt grumbled as he turned up the volume on the television. “Listen to the news.”

Ahote glanced at the television screen, frowning at the image of the Talon symbol on it. He blocked out the words as he stood up.

“Where are you going, Ahote?” Mei asked, looking up at him from her perch on the armrest.

“Uh,” Ahote said, blinking at her. He hadn’t expected anyone to ask. “I’m...gonna go read,” he said. “Before dinner.”

“Oh,” Mei said, before she nodded. “Okay, then!” She gave Ahote a smile, which he returned before stepping past the sofa.

There was a small chorus of farewells, which Ahote returned with a silent wave before he stepped through the door. After the barrier slid between him and the rec room, he let out a quiet sigh of relief.

Since he’d run from Talon, he’d never been good with crowds--even small ones. He hadn’t been good with socialization in general, really, but his nerves always got the best of him when there was more than one other person around.

Ahote shook his head of the thoughts. He figured he might as well do what he said he was going to do, and set off towards the library.

Thankfully, he didn’t come across anyone on his trek; he entered the library, and inhaled deeply. It was a lot bigger than he’d had been expecting--there was a ladder to reach the taller shelves, and traditional and digital books split evenly amongst the shelves.

Ahote stepped over to the traditional books, running his fingers down their spines. He hadn’t seen one in ages--not since before Talon, anyway. He picked a thin hardcover book from the shelf, turning to look at the front. _REBIRTH_ gleamed at him in golden letters across the cover, over what looked like a person wielding a sword while fighting a dragon.

Ahote shrugged--it was as good a pick as any, he supposed, especially if he only had a few hours. He looked up and around the rest of the library.

There were tables with seats around them, and even a few couches, but it was stuffy in the room--Ahote felt like getting some fresh air. He slowly stepped to the door, though he stopped before he tried to open it.

“Athena?” he asked, looking up at the ceiling.

“Yes, Mr. Talas?” her minty voice responded.

“Can I take books from the library?”

“Yes, Mr. Talas,” she replied. “Though Winston urges all agents to return them as soon as possible, and to keep them on the premises.”

Ahote nodded. “Thank you, Athena,” he said, before he reached over to open the door.

“You’re welcome, Mr. Talas,” she responded.

Ahote stepped through the door, and it slid shut behind him. He glanced up and down the hall, getting his bearings, before he walked towards the nearest door to the roof. It wasn’t far--just a few corners away.

When he opened the door, he grimaced to see a ladder. He leaned forward a little, peering up the chute. He sighed, then stuffed the book into the pocket of the hoodie he wore. He quickly scaled the ladder, the metallic bars cold and clammy under his hands. By the time he pushed up the trapdoor at the top, he was panting lightly.

The air gusted over him like a breeze from a refrigerator. He inhaled deeply, the tang of salt at the end of the breath as he climbed out from the door, closing it gently behind him. He stood at his full height, glancing around the roof.

It was flat, mostly, and metallic. Ahote could see the helipad farther down it, though he wasn’t interested in that. There were a few drones patrolling the edges, not seeming to give Ahote a second glance. The sun, just beginning its descent from the sky, glittered brightly on the dark, dark sapphire waves of the sea. Seagulls chortled in the distance.

The roof met with a cliff-face that had a small, rocky pathway. Ahote furrowed his brow at the path, then slowly made his way to it. Before he stepped onto it, he glanced down, then straightened and looked up, immediately wishing he hadn’t. It was a _long_ fall. He shook his head, then slowly stepped forward. He kept his back pressed against the wall, careful to keep his gaze forward instead of down.

He inched his way past a bend, when suddenly the path opened up; there was a small alcove in the cliff, unseen from the roof. There was some ash in a corner--likely from McCree’s cigarillos.

Ahote was unperturbed. McCree wasn’t there then, and that was good enough for him. Ahote sat down, his legs dangling over the edge of the cliff. He looked up, inhaling deeply again. A soft breeze tickled a small piece of hair across his face, and he reached up to brush it away. He set his left hand on the ground, the robotic limb giving a small _tink!_.

Ahote pulled out the book, flipping open the cover with one hand and skimming it, gently swinging his feet in the air, his cybernetic foot sometimes tapping against the rocky edge.

As Ahote read, he felt the ball of nerves in his chest unraveling. The book wasn’t particularly riveting--it was the second or third in a series, unfortunately, so Ahote was mostly lost throughout it--but he felt...safe. Hidden. Even when he’d been in his apartment in Flagstaff, Ahote was always concerned someone would burst through the door, force him to fight them, then move and relocate.

Here, however, he knew he was mostly shielded. All he could see was ocean for miles around, and there was only one path to the cave, which he could keep an eye on.

He read for his remaining three hours of free time. He nearly dropped the book down the face of the cliff when his arm began to beep, but he shook his head and dismissed the alert. He stretched his legs a little before he pushed himself to his feet. He shoved the book back into his pocket, rubbing his eyes.

The sun had fallen far. It was just sitting on the horizon, like a golden coin. Or a tortilla. Ahote’s stomach gave a rumble. He shook his head, then inched his way back down the small footpath, his back to the wall again.

Ahote was able to climb down the ladder and reach his room to store the book without incident. As he exited his room, though, he spotted Lúcio stepping out of his own room.

When Lúcio’s gaze landed on him, Lúcio gave a big grin. “Hey, neighbor!” he said. “What’s up?”

“Heading to the dinner,” Ahote responded, motioning down the hall.

“Same here,” Lúcio said. “Small world, huh? Let’s head down together. Lena didn’t show you the dinner room, I’m guessing.”

“She didn’t,” Ahote confirmed. Lúcio began to walk down the hall, and Ahote walked at his side.

“Yeah, she usually forgets,” Lúcio said, shrugging one shoulder. “When Hana first got here, she was an hour late.” He chuckled a little at the memory. “Man, Winston was _mad_. I think he lectured her for ten minutes about punctuality before she managed to tell him Lena didn’t show her where to go.”

“Is Winston normally so….” Ahote trailed off, looking for the right word.

Luckily, Lúcio picked up his meaning. “Yeah,” he said with a nod of his head. “For a gorilla, he’s real precise. Well, for anyone, I guess.”

“Who else will be there?” Ahote asked.

“Pretty much everyone,” Lúcio replied. “Me, Genji, Mei, Angie, Lena, Reinhardt, Winston, Hana, uh….” Lúcio was silent for a moment, his brow furrowed as he thought. “I dunno if Jesse will show, but he’s always raving about how much he loves free food, so I can’t see him skipping it. Ro got back a little after you got here, so she’ll probably come.”

“Ro?” Ahote asked, a small frown on his face.

“Oh! Uh, Lehana Roland. She was part of Blackwatch, back in the day.” Lúcio blinked, then looked up at Ahote. “You...didn’t try to kill her, too, did you?”

Ahote shrugged a shoulder. “I didn’t know names,” he said. “Once I see her, I’ll know.”

“Great,” Lúcio mumbled. “If you need a meatshield, I’d use Reinhardt. He’s big, and he doesn’t look it, but he can move fast.”

Ahote felt a small smile curve his lips. “I’ll be fine,” he said.

“Alright,” Lúcio said uncertainly. “Just pray we don’t have meatballs tonight. She’s got _great_ aim.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Ahote said. After a beat of silence, he asked, “Who made dinner?”

Lúcio shrugged. “It’s a potluck kinda thing,” he said. “Whoever can cook brings whatever they want.”

“Did you bring anything?”

“Beijinhos,” Lúcio said with a grin. At Ahote’s confused look, he laughed a little. “They’re _good_. I’ll make sure you get to try one, don’t worry--just save some room for dessert.”

“Sure,” Ahote said slowly. “Thanks, Lúcio.”

“No problem, man,” Lúcio replied. He stopped walking and pressed a hand to the side of a door, which beeped and quietly slid open to reveal the kitchen. “Remember what I said: Reinhardt is a good meatshield.”

“Got it,” Ahote said as they walked through the kitchen.

Ahote wasn’t much of a chef, but to his untrained eye, the kitchen appeared to be high-end; all the counters were clean and gleaming, and the metallic stove seemed pristine. There were several appliances that Ahote didn’t even recognize.

They walked to a door at the far end of the kitchen, which Lúcio opened. The door slid open, and Ahote took a deep breath before he stepped through it.

The mess hall was about the size he expected--larger than most of the other rooms he’d seen. There were three long rows of tables with benches, though only one was laden with food and activity, in the middle. It seemed like most of the other members were already there, picking at the food on the table. Ahote spied what looked like a meager set of desserts on one of the unused side tables. Thankfully, it seemed as if nobody had heard them enter--they were all too focused on dinner.

“You comin’, Ahote?” Lúcio asked, shaking Ahote from his thoughts.

Ahote looked at him, then nodded, glancing at the crowd again. He crossed his arms uneasily, sticking close to Lúcio.

He recognized most of the people there--Reinhardt, Angela, Mei, Hana, Lena (she gave him a wave and a grin when she saw him), Genji, and McCree. There was a large gorilla in a white labcoat that Ahote assumed was the infamous Winston, an omnic with a peaceful-looking face hovering next to Genji, and a woman with a sour expression seated next to McCree.

Ahote recognized the woman; she had a wedge of brown hair flipped to the side of her face, and her eyes were narrowed at him. Ahote assumed that was “Ro.” When they’d met while Ahote was in Talon, he’d always just called her “the board woman” in his head.

“This must be Ahote,” a loud voice said from Ahote’s left, startling him from his musings. He looked over to the source, and jumped when he found he was face-to-face with Winston. “Good to meet you!” To Ahote’s horror, the rest of the crowd stilled their movements, looking over at him with curiosity.

“Hey,” Ahote greeted, his arms still crossed and an uninviting frown on his face. He knew he didn’t look friendly, but at that moment, he didn’t care.

“Looks like we’re recruiting anyone these days,” someone grumbled.

Ahote’s gaze zipped to the source of the voice, but before he could say anything, Angela scolded, “Lehana!”

“What?” the woman next to McCree groaned, slouched in her seat. “All I’m sayin’ is, he was Talon! How do we know we can trust him?”

“He’s here now,” Angela said with a mighty frown. “He’s gone through the same checks we all did. The least we can do is welcome him.”

“Rookie’s got a point, Doc,” McCree drawled. “None of _us_ were part of Talon. What if--”

“Alright,” Winston said, lumbering back to the head of the table. “That’s enough!” Everyone stilled, looking up at the gorilla. “Ahote is part of Overwatch now,” he said definitively. “He’s an ally. I’m not saying you have to like him, but basic civility would be appreciated.”

An uneasy silence followed. Lehana had her arms crossed, an angry frown still on her face, and Ahote didn’t think McCree looked much happier.

“Now that everything’s awkward,” Hana asked, “can we eat? I’m starving.”

The rest of the group mumbled agreements before they turned back to their plates.

“Does anyone know where Torbjörn is?” Lena asked as Ahote and Lúcio sat down, side-by-side. The omnic was on Ahote’s other side. “I haven’t seen him at all today!”

“I think he said he was going to work on the drones,” Reinhardt replied. “After training.”

“He’s probably still out there,” Angela supplied. “He always loses track of the time while he’s out there!”

“I can go get him!” Lena said. She quickly stood up.

“I don’t think--” Reinhardt started, but with a flash of blue, Lena was gone. The door quietly slid shut as he sighed. “She’s always so quick!” he lamented.

Ahote tuned out the chatter, dropping his gaze to the food on the table. He recognized a few dishes--spaghetti and peanut butter sandwiches, mainly. There were several bowls with steaming soups and other things Ahote couldn’t identify.

Lúcio leaned in close, pointing at a steaming bowl right in front of Ahote. “I’d stay away from that,” he advised. “Reinhardt made it. It’s fine if you want your brain to melt out your ears, but otherwise….”

“Thanks for the warning,” Ahote mumbled in return. “What _is_ good?”

“According to Genji,” the omnic next to Ahote chimed peacefully, making him jump a little bit, “the best dish is Doctor Ziegler’s fondue.” He pointed to a small red pot sitting on top of a heated plate, steaming, with long sticks poking out of it. There was a small pile of bread chunks next to it.

“Thanks,” Ahote said slowly, warily eying the omnic.

“My apologies,” the omnic said, voice level. “My name is Zenyatta. I am pleased to make your acquaintance.”

“Ahote,” Ahote replied, feeling a little less wary of the omnic. “It’s...good to meet you, too.” He warily reached out to take a stick from the red pot and jab it through a chunk of bread, before he dipped it into the cheese and quickly brought it to his mouth. It was hot, and Ahote was sure he wouldn’t be able to taste properly for a few days, but…. “It _is_ good,” Ahote reported to the omnic, setting the stick on his otherwise empty plate.

“I am glad that my advice did not lead you astray,” Zenyatta replied.

“Can I ask--” Ahote started, then stopped, realizing his question might be unwanted. Zenyatta tilted his head to the side a smidge, though, so Ahote continued, “If you’re an omnic, why did you come? You don’t eat.”

“These dinners are social occasions as much as they are for organic sustenance,” Zenyatta replied. “I came to introduce myself to you, the new recruit. Strong ties are important in organizations such as this.”

“I see,” Ahote said. “Thanks for coming to...meet me, then, I guess.”

“Of course,” Zenyatta replied with a nod.

Ahote turned to look at the food again. He blinked down at his plate, which was still empty. He figured his stomach was making a meal of his nerves, and that was why he wasn’t eating much more, but…. He looked up at the food and reached over to pick up a fluffy-looking croissant.

He tore off a piece with his fingers and popped it into his mouth, glancing around the table. Everyone seemed to be having their own discussions; Lúcio seemed to be telling a story about--a concert, maybe? Ahote didn’t have enough context to guess. Lena had returned, and was sitting with a short bearded man at her side--Ahote guessed that was Torbjörn.

Torbjörn caught Ahote’s gaze and waved a--claw?--at him. Ahote eyed the claw warily before nodding, still chewing his bread.

“Ye look like y’want t’hear the story,” Torbjörn said as he motioned at his claw.

Angela, at his other side, sighed. “Torbjörn, you’ve told that story at least twelve times since the recall,” she said.

“I have not!” Torbjörn protested. “Besides, th’new one hasn’t heard it yet!”

“You don’t even know his name,” Angela argued. “You can’t tell him the story until you learn his name.”

“I know his name!” Torbjörn said. He looked at Ahote, narrowing his eyes, stroking his chin with his hook as he thought. “It’s...on th’tip o’ my tongue!”

“Just keep eating,” Angela stage-whispered to Ahote. “It will take him quite a while.” She gave a mischievous smile.

Ahote gave her a small smile in response. He tore another piece from his croissant and popped that into his mouth, glancing over the rest of the table.

He liked this group. Everyone--even McCree and Lehana--were talking and laughing with the people at their elbows. Everyone had a smile on their face and glowing cheeks--even Torbjörn, who’d apparently given up the riddle for Ahote’s name. He accidentally caught Lehana’s eyes, and she stuck her tongue out at him before turning pointedly to Lena, at her side.

Ahote tore another piece of bread off his croissant and slipped it into his mouth. Talon dinners were never like this. If Ahote was lucky, they were silent; there were other agents eating too, but none of them spoke. What would they talk about? Sharing ideas where it wasn’t your place to do so resulted in punishment. If Ahote wasn’t lucky, he just didn’t eat.

“Why is your plate _still_ empty, man?” Lúcio asked, jarring Ahote from his thoughts.

He looked at Lúcio, then down at his plate, still empty (save for the fondue stick). “Sorry,” he said. “I, uh, don’t eat a lot, usually.”

“Oh,” Lúcio said. “You should probably think about changing that. Without food, how will you have energy to do things, you know?”

“Lúcio is correct,” Zenyatta chimed in from Ahote’s other side. “Even omnics require energy to do necessary functions. Without that energy, we can do nothing.”

“Thanks for the concern,” Ahote said, “but I’ll be fine.”

Lúcio looked up at Ahote with an expression that said he didn’t believe him. Still, he shrugged and turned back to his own plate. “Oookay,” he said, slowly. “If you’re _sure_ you’ll be fine.”

“Lúcio,” Zenyatta said, a hint of concern in his voice, “I do not think it is wise to--”

“What can we do, Zen?” Lúcio asked, shrugging his shoulders helplessly as he cut at a piece of meat. “He said he’ll be _fine_.”

“Ahote!” a voice shouted from across the table, dragging Ahote’s attention from the discussion. He looked at the source of the voice--Torbjörn was looking at him with piercing eyes. “Yer name’s Ahote!”

“Gopferteli,” Angela muttered as Ahote nodded at Torbjörn.

“Now y’get t’hear my _beautiful_ story a thirteenth time, Angie,” Torbjörn chuckled.

“Lucky me,” Angela deadpanned, staring straight at Ahote.

Torbjörn launched into his story, which took entirely too long to tell. He kept getting interrupted and shouted over by others, which made him repeat what he’d said, and he kept forgetting certain specific words he wanted to use. Ahote tried to follow along as best he could, and from what he understood of the story, it boiled down to a turret explosion while in the field.

There was no real conclusion to the story; Torbjörn just gave up on telling it when Angela kept dragging him out of his narrative to argue the facts. Ahote shook his head at the pair, then looked down at his plate, which had food on it.

He blinked, then looked at Lúcio, who was talking animatedly with Hana, on his other side. Ahote then looked at Zenyatta, who was deep in conversation with Genji. Ahote looked down at his plate. He shrugged before he began to eat the food, only taking small bites at a time.

The food itself was...good, for the most part. There were a few things Ahote didn’t touch after an initial taste, but it was all homely, in a way. By the time his plate was cleared of most of what he liked, he felt fuller than he had in years.

As he polished off (what he assumed was) a dumpling, Hana asked, “Are we getting dessert soon?”

Winston pointed over to the other table. “The dessert’s on that table,” he said. “If you’d all get in a calm, orderly line--”

The rest of Winston’s words were drowned out as five or six people rushed over to the table at once. A large clamor came from the dessert table as people elbowed each other to the side to get to the best desserts.

Ahote was a little distressed when he saw Lúcio rush towards the desserts as well, but he watched the scene with a faint smile on his face once he was sure there _wouldn’t_ be a bloodbath over cookies.

He looked over to Winston at the gorilla’s sigh. “This happens _every_ group dinner,” Winston griped. “Someone’s going to get hurt--”

“Ow!” a high-pitched voice shouted from the crowd.

“--And now they’re going to pick a fight,” Winston continued.

“You’ll pay for that, Jesse!” the injured party shouted--Lehana, Ahote thought.

“You already got all the good muffins!” McCree shouted in return. “Save some fer the rest of us, ya glutton!”

The shouts dissolved, and Ahote’s small smile returned. “They won’t do any real damage,” he said.

“I know,” Winston sighed. “But still. _Every_ dinner.” He shook his head, focusing his attention on Ahote. “How have you been settling in?”

Ahote shrugged a shoulder. “Fine,” he said. “You have a lot of amenities here.”

Winston nodded. “We plan for our agents to stay long-term, so the original architects planned for whatever need might arise,” he said. “You were registered into Athena’s system alright?”

Ahote nodded.

“Good,” Winston sighed. At Ahote’s furrowed brow, he explained, “Sometimes the welcome wagon forgets to do that.”

“Lena made sure of it,” Ahote said. “She was...good at being a welcome wagon. I think.”

Winston bared his teeth in (what Ahote hoped was) a smile. “Good,” he said. “Since you’re registered with Athena, I’ll be able to send you your schedule for the week.”

“Schedule?” Ahote asked.

“Oh, you know,” Winston said with a wave of his hand. “Chores, training schedules. You said you were kidnapped when you were twelve?” He began to pick at a fang with a claw.

Ahote nodded.

“Seventh grade,” Winston murmured. “We’ll want to give you lesson plans, too--to make up for the school you missed.”

Ahote furrowed his brow. “Thanks for the thought,” he said, “but...why? I’ve gotten by well enough so far.”

“When Overwatch is brought into the light again,” Winston said, “the first thing the public’s going to do is search for weaknesses. An ex-Talon agent is suspicious enough, but if they learn you don’t even have a degree?” Winston shook his head. “I shudder to think what they’ll do.”

Ahote frowned. He wanted to argue--he had much better things to do with his time than _schooling_ \--but something told him Winston wouldn’t take kindly to it, so he kept his mouth shut instead. “Sure,” he said, passively.

“Of course, it won’t interfere with any of your _real_ training, and you’ll still have freetime--” Winston stopped, blinking. “Oh. You agreed?”

Ahote nodded.

Winston chuckled. “I apologize,” he said. “I’m so used to people arguing with whatever I bring up. I think you’ll get along great here, Ahote.”

“Thanks, Winston,” Ahote said, giving the gorilla a tight smile. He stood up from his seat, glancing down at his plate.

“I’m sure you’re tired,” Winston said. “It’s been a long day, after all, and you have a longer one tomorrow! Just leave your plate in the kitchen sink--new recruits don’t have to wash dishes at their own welcome dinner.”

Ahote nodded, grabbing his plate. “Thanks, Winston,” he repeated. He hesitated before dipping his head toward the gorilla. “Goodnight.”

Winston responded with his own dip of the head.

Ahote quickly walked towards the door, sparing the crowd at the dessert table--which had begun to disperse--only a glance. He was grateful they were too enthralled with their food to hear him open the door.

Once the door slid shut behind him, Ahote stared down at his plate for a moment. He didn’t think it’d be so...informal here. He thought there’d be strict rules and regulations, rigid timetables and orderly lines. He was glad it wasn’t like that.

He stepped to the sink--deep and metallic--and gently set his plate inside. He frowned, then shook his head and picked up the plate again. He knew Winston said he could just leave it, but…it didn’t feel right.

He scraped the remaining food into the trash can, then returned to the sink. He picked up a sponge and turned on the faucet, scrubbing the remaining residue off of the plate. Once all the foodstuff was gone, he turned off the faucet, set the sponge back, and set the plate on a towel next to the sink to dry overnight.

He stepped through the door into the hall, patting his hands dry on his thighs. He quickly walked to his room, not meeting anyone on the way. They were all at dinner. It was strange--when everyone was in one place, it didn’t feel like there were many people at all.

Ahote’s bedroom door slid shut behind him. The main lights were off, though there were some small accent lights in places--around the frame of the bed, the bottoms of the walls, and the closet door, mainly. They washed the dark room in a blue-ish hue. Ahote glanced at the desk, the book he’d gotten from the library still resting on the corner, as he stepped closer to the bed.

Once he was standing next to it, he looked down at the mattress. He reached up to take out the band holding his hair in a ponytail, shaking out the dark locks as he stepped out of his sneakers. He slipped out of his hoodie and slung it over the back of the chair at the desk, setting his hair tie on the desk itself.

He didn’t want to sleep--he wasn’t tired, and he knew what nightmares would visit when he fell unconscious. He also knew, though, that there was nothing else to do, and he would need whatever rest he could glean.

He laid down on top of the blankets, on his back, and stared up at the ceiling. His arms rested on his stomach. The light from the center of his robotic hand shone brightly on the ceiling.

Ahote forced his eyes shut, exhaling a little as he did so. He could sleep. He knew he could, if he had enough time. He tried to lose himself in thoughts--of the past, of the present, of the future. He wondered how long it’d take before they stopped trusting him. He wondered if they’d ever start. He wondered if they’d ever stop. He wondered how gorillas could live on the moon. He wondered what it’d be like if _he_ lived on the moon. He thought about--

His eyes flew open at a knocking on his door. He sat up, looking at the door curiously. The knocking sounded again--a beat, rather than random taps.

Ahote frowned, standing up and stepping over to the door. He pressed a palm against the wall next to the door, and it beeped before sliding open.

Lúcio was standing there. Ahote rubbed his eye as Lúcio gave him a grin.

“Hey!” he said. “Sorry, did I wake you up?”

“No,” Ahote said. He glanced down at Lúcio’s hands. He was holding what looked like a white cupcake with one. “What do you want?”

“I told you I’d make sure you got to try a beijinho,” he replied, proffering the cupcake. “I keep my promises.”

Ahote hesitantly took the small confectionary, a furrow between his brows as he looked between it and Lúcio. “Thanks…?”

“No problem!” Lúcio said. He held up his hands. “You can eat it whenever--I just wanted to make sure you got it. But I’d remember Winston’s no-food-in-the-dorms rule, if I were you.” Lúcio gave Ahote another grin before stepping over to his own bedroom door. “See you tomorrow, Ahote.”

“Goodnight, Lúcio,” Ahote said, watching Lúcio with a vaguely confused expression as he stepped through the door.

Ahote looked down at the--the beijinho. He rotated it a little, warily eying the coconut shavings on its surface. He stepped back into his room, the door closing behind him. As he turned back to his bed, his gaze settled on the book on his desk. He looked back down at the beijinho, then sighed.

He set the treat on the desk, then slid his foot into his sneaker again. He slipped his hair into the hair tie again, pulled on his hoodie, and grabbed the book and the beijinho before he opened the door and stepped into the hallway.

He was sure he’d be able to tire himself out on the roof, in the little alcove in the cliff-face, with some dessert and a “good” book. He had to remind himself that he wouldn’t get punished for walking around after curfew as he walked to the ladder.


	4. Training

Ahote slammed down on the blood-slick mat, a resounding smacking sound echoing throughout the room. He squeezed his eyes shut, wishing it was over already, but he knew it wouldn’t be for a while yet.

“Get up,” a cold voice said from above him--uncaring, calculating, harsh.

Ahote inhaled sharply, pushing himself up. His body screamed at him to stop, to lay down, to sleep, but he knew they would punish him worse than his body ever could. He cracked open his eyes as he stood on unsteady legs, peering at his foe. Ahote had lacerations all over his body from the blade his opponent held, and a deep slash in his thigh.

He put his fists in front of his bruised face. His eyes were swelling, but he wouldn’t give up until he was unconscious. To do so would mean death.

His foe--a Talon agent several years his senior--smirked. “You just don’t know when to quit, kid,” she said.

Ahote didn’t respond. He focused on breathing, on standing, on not succumbing to the blackness dotting the edges of his vision. His head was pounding, begging for relief, but Ahote grit his teeth and ignored it.

His opponent moved first. She charged forward, blade outstretched to embed into Ahote’s gut. Ahote stepped to the side and grabbed the wrist of the hand holding the blade. He quickly moved behind the woman, twisting her arm as he went, until she was forced to release the blade or have her arm broken. Once she let go of the weapon, Ahote kicked the back of her knee, sending her crumpling to the ground. He wasted no time before he fell heavily on her, holding the knife to her neck.

She struggled under him, looking up at him with hateful eyes. Under the hate, though, there was fear--fear of what would happen, now that she’d been beat. It was a familiar expression to Ahote these days.

Before the referee concluded the match, however, the woman under Ahote changed. Her lips grew fuller, rounder, and her skin darkened to a warm russet brown. Her eyes became endless like the night sky, and her hair thickened and darkened to charcoal-black, bound in loops.

Ahote’s eyes widened in horror, and he quickly stood up, backing away from the woman--his mother. “Y-yuuyu?” he asked. “What are you--?”

Ahote’s mother rose to her feet, looking around. Once her eyes landed on Ahote, she frowned. “Tiyo?” she whispered. “Where are we? Why is it so dark?”

Ahote shook his head, dropping the knife. He didn’t hear it make any sound as he moved forward, trying to embrace his mother. “I don’t know,” he said, a smile overtaking his face and tears burning the back of his nose, “but what does it matter? You’re here!”

His mother, however, moved backwards--away from his arms. He frowned. “Yuuyu?” he asked, quietly. “What’s wrong?”

A cruel smile curved her mouth--unlike Ahote had seen on her face before. “Oh, Ahote,” she said, her voice haughty and cold. “How gullible.”

Before Ahote could ask what she meant, her face morphed again. Her lips thinned and her nose pointed; her eyes became calculating and hard, like two mossy stones in the bed of a river. Her now-brown hair was swept up into a bun, and a pristine dress cascaded from her form. As her skin paled to a sandy brown, a scythe materialized in her hands, a cruel smile still on her face.

“You’ll never be able to get over her, will you?” the new woman before him-- _Kronos,_ his mind whispered like the name was poison--asked, before she gave a light titter. “I’ll admit, though--it’s fun to torture you over it.”

Ahote frowned, clenching his hands into fists. He looked down for the knife, but there was no floor--just an endless void. He widened his eyes in horror, looking back up at the woman.

“Helpless!” she mockingly lamented, taking long, leisurely strides towards him. “But what’s new?”

Ahote opened his mouth to speak, but found he couldn’t; it was as if something was sitting on his throat, preventing anything from escaping. “It’s okay,” the woman cooed. “You’d only scream if you could speak.”

A slicing sound cut the air as she suddenly brought her blade through his neck, and--

* * *

Ahote cracked his eyes open several hours after he’d closed them during the night, the dream instantly fading from his mind. He was leaning against the far side of the alcove in the cliff, the book in his lap. It was still dark, though the stars were beginning to disappear as the sky lightened.

Then Ahote heard what had woken him: the cracking sound of a footstep on the path to the cave.

In a flash, Ahote was on his feet, the book pulled back and ready to strike in his right hand as he slowly stepped towards the path, eyes wide.

He heard another step, then another, until a large red blur stepped from behind the corner.

Ahote lifted his book and hit wildly at the intruder. When the book made contact with a resounding thud, the intruder shouted, “Shit!” and started to pinwheel on the edge of the path.

Ahote hesitated, and realized the trespasser was none other than McCree. Ahote dropped the book and snapped his hand forward to grab the cowboy by his sarape, so he didn’t tumble over the edge.

Once McCree had his footing back, Ahote let go. They blinked at one another for a moment. McCree was only in his sarape, some pants, and regular shoes--the rest of his get-up was nowhere to be seen. He didn’t even have a cigarillo; he held a white mug in his hands, though Ahote got the distinct impression that it was empty after his near-death experience.

McCree spoke first. “ _You_ sure know how to wish a guy ‘good mornin’,’” he grumbled.

“Sorry,” Ahote said quietly. He bent down and picked up the book. “I’ll get out of your hair.”

Ahote moved to step down the path once McCree vacated it, but McCree waved his hand. “Stay a while,” he said. “Sun’s not gonna rise proper for a whole ‘nother hour.” He slowly sat at the edge, setting his mug down next to him.

Ahote gazed uncertainly down at McCree. “Are you...sure?” he asked. “I got the impression you hated me.”

“Just sit down ‘fore I change my mind,” McCree said. He took a sip out of his mug as Ahote sat in his original seat, now between McCree and the wall.

They sat in silence for a good while, just staring out at the ocean. In the night, the waves were stormy and black. As the sky lightened to a soft periwinkle, the sea became a sparkling azure.

“Look,” McCree suddenly drawled, “I don’t hate’cha.”

Ahote glanced at him, uncertainly. “I wouldn’t blame you if you did,” he said carefully.

“Yeah, well, I don’t,” McCree insisted. “Distrust you, sure. Hell, I may even dislike ya. But I don’t hate’cha.”

Ahote was unsure what to say to that, so he was silent for a moment before he finally mumbled, “Thanks.”

A seagull called in the distance. “We’ve just got a past,” McCree continued. He took a sip from his mug. “Don’t mean we can’t be teammates. Just gotta earn each other’s trust.” He glanced at Ahote then. “By the way,” he said, “I tried killin’ you, too. So did Rookie. You’ve got every right to be pissed at us back.”

Ahote hesitated before he answered, slowly. “Change...begets change,” he said. “If I distrusted you from the start, nothing would evolve between us. You may never like me, but...that’s alright. As long as we work as a team, it’s no big deal.”

McCree nodded silently. He took another sip from his mug.  He was quiet for another few minutes.

The waves crashed against the cliff, far below. A second seagull called in the distance, to join the first.

“Have you been out here all night?” McCree finally asked.

Ahote nodded. “Guess so. I didn’t mean to.”

“Yeah,” McCree said. “It’s got a way of lurin’ you in like that. Didja at least check yer email ‘fore comin’ out?”

Ahote shook his head.

“Should go get on that,” McCree said. “If you get on _Winston’s_ bad side, you’ll be on bathroom duty fer a week. Trust me, bathroom duty ain’t somethin’ you wanna be on.”

Ahote nodded, then stood up. “Thanks...Jesse,” he said hesitantly.

“Still McCree to you.”

“Okay,” Ahote said, relieved. “McCree. See you later.”

McCree didn’t respond, instead taking another sip from his mug. Ahote was surprised there was that much coffee left in it.

Ahote slowly inched back along the footpath. Though he couldn’t see it, he was sure the sun was fully above the horizon now; the sky was the same bright blue that it had been when Ahote arrived the other day, and the waves were a deep sapphire. Several seagulls swooped and dived in the distance.

When Ahote reached the ladder, he shoved the book in his pocket and quickly made his way down, the metal of the rungs perhaps colder in the chill of the early morning air than they had been the previous night.

When he stepped through the door to the hallway, he was relieved to find that the corridor was deserted. He briskly made his way towards his room, his steps muted. He saw a groggy-looking Mei on the way, but was able to get away with just a nod and a brief smile to her. He guessed she wasn’t much of a morning person.

Otherwise, he reached his room without other incident. He stepped through the door with a small sigh of relief. It was exactly the same as he’d left it, he noted as the door slid shut behind him.

He set the book carefully on the desk as he sat in front of the computer, swiftly pressing his thumb to the power button. The computer turned on with a hum, the screen flashing for a moment before settling on a login screen requesting an identification number. Ahote’s fingers quickly typed _013_ and pressed enter.

The keyboard slid apart to reveal a smooth pad, much like had happened in Athena’s core. Ahote placed his palm over the pad without being prompted. Something tickled his palm before the computer gave an affirming beep. Ahote lifted his hand from the pad as the keyboard slid back into place.

“That’s gonna be annoying,” Ahote muttered as the screen flashed _Welcome, Agent Talas_. An email inbox popped up first, with a few messages already.

Ahote clicked on the oldest one-- _Rulebook for Watchpoint: Gibraltar_ , sent from AWin001@ovw.org.

> _Mr. Talas:_
> 
> _Attached is a pdf pile of the pools for the compound. Please read it a spoon as possible._
> 
> _Winston_
> 
> _P.S. Apoologies for asny errors in spellking; Athena’s speech-to-text algforithm is still imp[erfect._

Ahote huffed a laugh at the email before moving on to the next one-- _Schedule for the Week_ , from the same address.

> _Mr. Talas:_
> 
> _Attached is a document with your schedule for the weak. Please refer to it a spoon as possible. Athena you know I mean a spoon as possible. No Athena a spoon as possible. Athena no. A spoon as possible. A spoon as possible. You’re insufferable. Nevermind._
> 
> _Winston_

Ahote opened the file containing his schedule; it seemed pretty sparse, and was devoid of spelling errors, thankfully. The first activity was group training at seven AM. Ahote glanced at the time in the corner of the screen; _06:14_. He had enough time to do...something. He wasn’t sure what.

He stood up, not bothering to log out of the computer; if he had to go through that procedure _every_ time, it wasn’t worth it--not while there was no information on it, anyway. He stepped to the closet, opening the door. His clothes were already hung, his suitcase stored under them; he wondered when someone had time to do that, and decided to ask when he next saw...somebody.

A thought struck him, and he leaned down to zip open the suitcase, his heart in his throat. If they’d moved it somewhere else--or God forbid, stored it in the armory....

It was there, though; he let out a sigh of relief as his eyes landed on the small silver cuff, still stored exactly where he’d put it. He was tempted to put it on, but decided it would probably be wiser to wait for training. He zipped up the suitcase again.

He quickly changed into another outfit--one that would allow for breathing and mobility. If he was to be training, attire would be key. Besides, all his clothes were pretty much the same, anyway--he was practical, not stylish.

Ahote stepped out of the room, still debating on what he could do for 45 minutes. He supposed he could take a shower, but he would probably shower after training anyway. He figured he could read, but he didn’t especially want to. Maybe he--

“Hey, Ahote!” a voice called, jerking Ahote out of his thoughts. Ahote looked to the side to see a beaming Lúcio. He was in a tank top with a frog on it, lime green headphones resting around his neck. “What are you staring at?” he asked, glancing between Ahote and the spot on the wall he’d been inspecting.

“Nothing,” Ahote said. “I was thinking.”

“Huh,” Lúcio replied. “Thinking pretty hard.”

Ahote shrugged a shoulder. “It’s what I do, I guess.”

“Riiight,” Lúcio slowly said. “Well, I was just heading to the kitchen to grab some breakfast--do you wanna come?”

Ahote hesitated, glancing at the door to the bathroom before he nodded at Lúcio. “Sure,” he said.

Lúcio gave him a grin before he started walking. Ahote caught up to him in several long strides.

“How’d you like the beijinho?” Lúcio asked. When Ahote glanced at him, he seemed to have an impish smile on his face.

“It was good,” Ahote said, trying to sound sincere. He _was_ sincere, but that answer was too generic, so he lamely added on, “I’m not normally into sweet stuff, but it was nice.”

“That explains why you aren’t kneeling at my feet right now,” Lúcio said, a joking and lopsided grin on his face.

“I’ve got a bad knee,” Ahote said. “Limits how often I can kneel before someone.”

“Do you really?” Lúcio asked, a more curious expression crossing onto his face.

“No. I’m just bad at jokes.”

Lúcio snorted a laugh, facing forward again. “You’re not that bad,” he said. “Maybe just work on that weird scary vibe you’ve got goin’ on.”

“I always thought that was the best part,” Ahote said.

Lúcio shrugged a shoulder. “I’m sure you’ve got plenty of other things goin’ for you. Speaking of other things, do you have all your gear together for training?”

Ahote nodded. “What I need is in my room,” he said.

“That’s good,” Lúcio replied as they rounded a corner. “Word of advice, show up fifteen minutes early for training.”

Ahote lifted a brow. “Why?”

“Makes you look good,” Lúcio said. “And the earlier we show up, the earlier we end.”

Ahote nodded. “Makes sense,” he replied a moment too late.

They continued walking in silence--save for Lúcio’s chipper greetings to the early-morning zombified teammates--until they reached the kitchen.

“Do you know how to cook?” Lúcio asked as they stepped through the doorway.

Ahote’s gaze swept over the kitchen. It looked untouched--all the surfaces were still gleaming in the white lights. “Not really.”

Lúcio frowned at him, walking backwards to the counter. “C’mon, man--you must know how to cook _something_. How’d you live on your own?”

Ahote shrugged a shoulder. “Take-out,” he said. “And eggs.”

“Eggs?”

“I can scramble eggs,” Ahote answered. “When I’m lucky.”

“When you’re lucky,” Lúcio repeated. A slow grin crawled across his face. “Well, let’s hope you’re lucky now, huh?”

Ahote furrowed his brow. “What?”

Lúcio sat at the island counter, resting his head in his hands as he watched Ahote. “Make some eggs.”

Ahote blinked, looking around the kitchen again. He really had no idea how to use any of the amenities. He slowly looked back at Lúcio. “...Now?”

Lúcio nodded, a grin still on his face. “Might as well,” he said. “While you have somebody that knows how to work everything with you.”

“Uh,” Ahote said. It was smart--he’d be able to make his own food if he knew how everything worked. He certainly didn’t trust any of the members well enough yet to eat their food every day. He just wasn’t sure how he felt about Lúcio watching him cook. After another moment of deliberation, he said, “...Alright.”

Lúcio blinked. “That worked?” he asked, then coughed. “I mean--of course it worked. Uh, the fridge is right there.” He pointed to a silver box that Ahote would _not_ have guessed was a refrigerator. “Aaand the spice cabinet is there.” He pointed across the room from the fridge, to a small set of double-doors inlaid into the wall.

Ahote nodded, then began walking around the kitchen, collecting ingredients.

“You mind if I play some music?” Lúcio suddenly asked, interrupting Ahote as he ran down his mental checklist.

Ahote glanced at Lúcio, then shrugged a shoulder. “Go ahead.”

He saw Lúcio’s grin before he turned back to what he was doing. After a moment, music started to play from the counter--heavy bass beats and daring guitar.

Ahote had never really been one for music, but the song had a near-instantaneous effect on him. He felt his muscles relax just a little, and he moved with more ease and confidence. He began adding ingredients to a large bowl, cracking eggs and separating them without the clumsiness he normally had. Before he grabbed the whisk, he pulled the sleeves of his sweater back. His silver arm gleamed in the light.

The volume of the song lowered before Lúcio said, “You know, Winston didn’t mention you had a robot arm.”

Ahote glanced down at the limb in question. “Robot leg, too,” he said. He began to whisk the eggs hard, his metal arm curled around the bowl to keep it steady and hold it against his body.

“Can I ask how it happened, or…?” Lúcio carefully said.

“No,” Ahote said automatically, then froze as he realized how curt that was. “Uh,” he said, picking up his whisking again, “sorry. It’s...not as good as Torbjörn’s story, anyway.”

“He’s way too proud of that thing,” Lúcio grumbled. The music grew louder again, so Ahote took that as their conversation being over.

He continued making the eggs in silence. They turned out alright, he thought as he dished them onto a plate. A little overcooked, maybe, but better overcooked than undercooked.

He set the plate down before Lúcio, who tapped at the phone in his hands, stopping the music. Ahote looked between the plate and Lúcio. “Oh,” he said. “Uh. Hang on.”

As Ahote stepped back to the dish cabinet, Lúcio said, “These smell really good, man. Looks like luck’s on your side today, huh?”

“Thanks,” Ahote said, a smile twitching his lips a little. “That was a good song you were playing,” he said slowly as he turned to walk back to the counter.

“Thanks!” Lúcio said. “It’s a new one I’m working on--planning on debuting it at my next concert, if it works out.”

Ahote blinked blankly at Lúcio as he set the plate down, unsure which part of that statement to address first. Finally, he slowly echoed, “Concert.” His brow furrowed. “For...the other members?”

Lúcio shrugged a shoulder. “They can come if they want,” he said. “Usually too busy, though.”

Ahote slowly scraped half the eggs onto the new plate, brow still furrowed as he thought. “Then for who?”

“For...my fans. You know.” Lúcio sounded equally confused. “I didn’t give up music when I joined--just took a step back.”

Ahote blinked as realization hit him. “You’re a musician,” he said. He pushed one plate over to Lúcio and handed him a fork.

“DJ, usually, but yeah,” Lúcio said with a nod. “I don’t wanna sound arrogant or anything, but--you didn’t know?”

Ahote shook his head. “No,” he said. He forked some eggs into his mouth, chewed thoughtfully, then swallowed. “How long have you been one?”

“Well, I’ve always loved music,” Lúcio answered, taking a bite of eggs as well. He blinked down at the plate. “These are bomb, by the way.”

“Thanks.”

“I’ve always loved music,” Lúcio repeated, “so I’ve always been a musician, I guess, but I didn’t really become a world famous musician until a few years ago, after we kicked Vishkar’s butt.”

“We?” Ahote asked before he took another bite. His eggs were already mostly gone--he should’ve made more.

“The people in my favela and me,” Lúcio clarified. “Jeez, you were really living under a rock, weren’t you? It made national news for, like, weeks.”

Ahote shrugged a shoulder, looking down at his remaining eggs. “Talon doesn’t seem to think televisions are necessary,” he said. “And _everything_ is on a need-to-know basis. If I didn’t need to kill you, I didn’t get told.” He forked more eggs into his mouth, looking back up at Lúcio.

Lúcio blinked. “Huh,” he said. “Uh, I’m glad I didn’t piss off Talon, then.” He took another bite, clearing his plate. After he swallowed the eggs, he slowly asked, “They...had you do lots of stuff like that, then?”

Ahote glanced at the clock, and was relieved to see it say _6:40_. He gave Lúcio a stiff nod before he stood up, grabbing his plate. “We should get going.”

Lúcio frowned before he looked up at the clock as well. “Yeah,” he agreed.

The two washed their dishes before leaving the kitchen, briskly walking down the hall to the training room. At the turn to the dorms, Ahote stopped. Lúcio looked back at him curiously.

“I’ll, uh, be right there,” Ahote said, already walking towards his room. “Keep going.”

Lúcio nodded before he was out of sight.

Ahote let out a deep breath as he faced forward again. He liked Lúcio, if he was being honest--he was nice enough, and hadn’t threatened Ahote. But whenever Lúcio asked a question about him, Ahote felt like running. He didn’t want to answer them.

He quickly stepped into his room and to his closet. He opened the doors and opened the suitcase under the clothes. He grabbed the silver cuff, carefully affixing it halfway up his forearm. After a moment, it flickered and hummed, forming a small, light blue, diamond-shaped shield of plasma over his forearm. He gave the shield a few experimental taps--he hoped it’d traveled well.

He quickly walked out of his room and down the hallways to the training room. The door slid open and he stepped inside, glancing around.

The room was...huge. It had a vaulted ceiling, and several obstacles like cubes, pseudo-buildings, ladders, holes, and moats. There was a small group gathered on the far side of the room, talking. Lúcio was there, a big grin on his face, as well as Lehana (a red hoverboard at her side), Hana (a giant pink robot next to her), Zenyatta (floating above the ground), and Lena (who waved at Ahote as soon as she saw him).

At Lena’s wave, the others turned to look at him. He resisted the urge to grimace at the attention.

“Seriously?” Lehana asked, crossing her arms. “Day one, and I have to train with him? What if he shoots one of us in the back?”

Lena waved a hand. “They’re just bots, Lehana--you know they can’t _really_ hurt us. And besides, that would be stupid!”

“He worked with Talon,” Lehana said. “That should show he isn’t the smartest guy around.”

Ahote crossed his arms once he reached the group, frowning at Lehana. “I’m not Talon,” he said. “Their stupidity is theirs.”

“Wow, where’d you get that?” Lehana sneered. “Cool quotes dot com?”

Ahote opened his mouth to retort, but he was interrupted by a loud sigh from Hana. “Can we get started already, Athena?” she asked, walking around the robot at her side and jumping inside.

“Certainly, Miss Song,” Athena’s cool voice sounded over the intercom, echoing throughout the room. “As per Winston’s instructions, today you will be practicing out-of-mech combat--”

“What!” Hana shouted, snug in her mech. “No way!”

“--as we are still repairing facilities after your last self-destruct,” Athena continued. “For the rest of you, just focus on teamwork, as always. For any new recruits, the exercises begin simply, then get more complex. The droids you will be facing shoot only low-voltage electric bolts, so there is no permanent damage done.”

Ahote tried to listen, but Hana’s grumbling as she got out of her mech distracted him, so he really only got half the message--the main objective in each round is to kill all the bots, and something about stopping the simulation? Ahote hoped it wasn’t important.

“The simulation will now begin,” Athena finally concluded. “You have ten minutes to complete this wave.” As everyone turned to look at the rest of the room, Ahote did as well; some of the structures began to move, and doorways opened up. Bots filed out of the doorways, faceless. Ahote could see a rather large one at the very end of the room.

Ahote lifted his left hand and flicked a small switch on the robotic surface. It let out a quiet buzz, the light in the palm glowing brighter. As he took off his jacket and tied it around his waist, he glanced at the others. Lúcio had luminescent skates on, and what looked like a speaker with a trigger in his hand. Hana was in a sleek bodysuit with a small handgun; Zenyatta had fist-sized orbs rotating around him, glowing dimly; Lehana kicked her board, and it let out a small growl as she stood on top of it, locking her toes into place. She twirled two pistols in her hands as she perused the landscape of the battlefield. Lena had fallen into a runner’s position, the machine strapped to her chest glowing brightly, two small guns in her hands.

“Another competition, Song?” Lehana asked. “Loser does the winner’s dishes for a week?”

“You’re on!” Hana said, a competitive edge in her voice. “I’ll kick your butt!”

“Without your big robot?” Lehana challenged. “I’d like to see you try!”

“Let’s get started, you guys,” Lúcio said. “We’ve only got ten minutes.”

“No problem!” Lena chirped. “Be back in a tick!” In a flash of blue, she disappeared, reappearing several meters away and letting loose bullets into a nearby bot’s head.

Almost as if Lena had flipped a switch, the bots started moving erratically and firing. Ahote quickly stepped to the side to avoid a bolt of electricity, though he felt it buzz past his shoulder.

Everyone else started to move as well, running to bots and shooting them in the head. Lúcio hung back, though, flicking buttons on the gun in his hands until a synth beat started to play quietly. “For future reference,” he said, glancing up at Ahote, “when the music hits, you feel no pain.”

Before Ahote could ask what he meant, Lúcio skated away, towards the others. Ahote shook his head before he brought his shield in front of him. The plasma extended until it covered his full height, then he began to run forward, towards a bot.

Before he could reach it, however, Lehana flew past on her hoverboard, shooting the droid in the head. “Sixteen!” she called out, sticking her tongue out at Ahote as she came back around.

“Seventeen!” Hana called out from elsewhere in the obstacle course.

Lehana cursed under her breath before she zoomed away. Ahote shook his head, running to the next bot. He managed to reach it uninterrupted. Once he was within reach, he swept his shield to the side and held the palm of his robotic hand to the head of the robot. A small blue beam of energy escaped from the palm, splitting the droid’s head in half.

Ahote didn’t hesitate before rushing the next droid. Once he reached it and moved his shield to the side to attack, however, he felt something push against his back, throwing him into the bot. He grimaced as a sharp, painful bolt of electricity hit his gut. He used the laser from his hand to kill the bot before looking over his shoulder with a scowl at whoever pushed him.

“Oops,” the perpetrator--Lehana--said with a careless shrug. “My mistake.” She quickly zoomed off again.

Ahote let out an annoyed puff of air before he continued on his way, attacking bots and using his shield to deflect their “bullets.” Many more streamed in from the doors, replacing their fallen brethren. Lehana continued to harass Ahote--stealing his kills and pushing him into bots and bullets alike.

The training session lasted for a long time, but Ahote could only take so much abuse before he got fed up. His body felt a little raw with how many bolts of electricity had hit him, and rage made his heart pound at his temples. Before Lehana could push him into another bot, he reached out a foot to step on her hoverboard, stomping it to the ground.

Lehana went flying--just a short distance. She let out a shout as she flew, and landed on her back, her legs above her head. When she regained her bearings, she spread her legs to scowl at Ahote.

“Stop,” he growled.

Lehana snorted as she spun around and got to her feet. “Don’t blame me for you being so bad at dodging bullets,” she said. “I’m just making honest mistakes!”

“Maybe you should learn how to drive this thing, then,” Ahote replied hotly, lifting his foot off the board. “Or stay out of my way.”

Lehana opened her mouth, then closed it again, her eyes narrowing. “Alright,” she muttered. “No other way. We’re doin’ this.”

Ahote intended to ask what Lehana meant, but he couldn’t say anything before she charged, wrapping her arms around his torso. She tried to lift him, but he brought his knee up into her face harshly. She stumbled back, releasing her arms, and Ahote dropped down into an easier defensive stance.

“Don’t be stupid,” he said.

Lehana scoffed, rubbing her nose gingerly as she warily eyed Ahote. “I know _you_ are, but what am I?” she challenged.

She charged forward again, and launched a fist towards Ahote’s face. He blocked it easily with his forearm, but didn’t account for her second fist flying towards his cheek. He took the force of the punch, taking a step back as his cheekbone throbbed. He kept a close eye on Lehana.

“Are you done?” he asked. “This is a waste of time.”

“Fight back!” Lehana invited. “This is training! Show me what you can do these days! Or do you only know how to kill people?”

Ahote narrowed his eyes a fraction, and Lehana ran forward again. She brought her leg up, intending to kick him in the side, but he grabbed the appendage with his hands. He swiftly brought his foot out to sweep Lehana’s remaining leg out from under her, sending her crashing to the ground.

He meant to sit on top of her, to restrain her somehow until she calmed down, but Athena’s voice booming, “Deadly failure,” stopped him in his tracks. He looked up, trying to determine what had gone wrong.

“Aw, _rubbish_!” Lena shouted from the other end of the room.

“Laaame!” Hana joined her.

Lehana took the opportunity to strike while Ahote was distracted. She pulled hard on his leg, twisting the robotic limb a little and sending him hard to the ground. He kicked her hands off his leg, but couldn’t keep her from climbing on top of him. She kept her knees pinned on either side of his hips as she drew back a fist.

As she rocketed it forward, Ahote brought his forearms in front of his face. He grit his teeth at the brunt force of the punch that made his flesh arm ache.

“This is--pointless!” Ahote shouted as she punched his arms again, (thankfully) mostly hitting his robotic arm.

“You’re just bein’ a sore loser!” Lehana claimed. As she pulled her hand back for another punch, Ahote jabbed his own fist forward, into her gut. She hesitated as the air was pushed out of her, and Ahote took that moment to strike. In a surge of strength, he pushed Lehana up and over until she was the one lying on her back, and he was looming over her. Instead of pinning her down, however, he stood up, backing away from her, still tense and ready to attack.

She gathered her feet under herself before launching towards him again, trying to tackle him, he guessed. She wrapped her arms around his torso again, but managed to lift her head to avoid his knee. She struggled to throw him to the ground, but she wasn’t strong enough to break his stance like that.

Ahote heard someone nearby say, “I believe I may require assistance,” but he couldn’t find it in him to care about that--not when this woman was still attacking him. He wrapped his own arms around her, intending to throw her far away from him, but he felt others’ hands on them, trying to separate the two. He tried to shove them off, but there were too many--they pried Lehana off of him, and him off of her, and forced them to step away from one another.

Ahote and Lehana continued scowling at one another over the heads of the others as they backed away.

“Are you alright, man?” Ahote heard Lúcio ask.

He shook his head, looking down at the DJ. “Uh,” he said, taking another step back. He heard quiet music playing, and felt the stinging in his skin ebbing away. “Fine.” He crossed his arms, glancing away sheepishly. “...Sorry. She wouldn’t stop.”

Lúcio let out a thoughtful sound, peering up at Ahote for another moment before he turned to the others. Lehana looked mostly fine, her board tucked under her arm and her guns in their thigh holsters. She caught his eye above the heads of the others and frowned before looking away.

“Perhaps we should cease training for the day,” Zenyatta suggested calmly. “Some of us may be having what is referred to as an ‘off day.’”

“I’m with Zenyatta,” Lena said. Her arms were crossed, and she had a disappointed frown on her face as she glanced between Ahote and Lehana.

“I beat Ro anyway,” Hana said as she inspected her nails.

“You didn’t,” Lehana argued. “I killed fifty-six.”

Hana paused and blinked before she shrugged a shoulder. “Well, _I_ didn’t get in a fight.”

“That wasn’t the deal,” Lehana said, her volume raising.

“I believe Miss Song has what one may call a ‘moral high-ground’ here, Miss Roland,” Zenyatta calmly informed Lehana.

“Can it, Zen,” Lehana grumbled.

Ahote blocked out the rest of the conversation, his arms still crossed. He quietly sidestepped past Lúcio and the others as they continued discussing, making his way out of the room without incident.

He needed a shower, and some time alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel this is a good time to say that Lehana "Rookie" Roland is an original character that belongs to my friend!! She can be found at bonnybutt.tumblr.com :)


	5. Fatigue

Ahote didn’t check his schedule again until after he was dripping from a shower and dressed. He sat at the computer as he rubbed a white towel over his hair, hoping to dry it faster, and opened his schedule again. The next activity was marked _Lesson in Winston’s lab_ at 12:30 PM. Ahote’s gaze flicked to the clock; _09:34_.

He gave a loud sigh, leaning back in his seat. The chair squeaked a little in protest, but he ignored it. He had far too much freetime on his hands. He was sure that training usually lasted longer, and that’s why Winston’s “lesson” was so late, but still--Ahote didn’t know what to do with all that time. He looked at the rest of his schedule, and noticed that after the lesson, there was nothing else planned.

Ahote glanced at the book on the corner of his desk, dropping his damp towel in his lap. He was already mostly through the story; he only had a few more chapters to go. Reading them wouldn’t take long, though he could always start another book during the rest of his break. He could go to the rec room and mess around for a bit, but he wasn’t big on video games, television, or socializing, so there was really no point. He circled his robotic leg around a little, grimacing at the slight twinge near the joint. Lehana had likely pulled something out of place; he could repair the flaw before the lesson. There were individual training rooms, maybe he’d--

“Mr. Talas.” Athena’s voice suddenly interrupted his thoughts.

Ahote jumped a little, glancing at the ceiling in reflex. “Athena,” he said, carefully.

“Pardon my intrusion,” she continued. “Winston would like you to meet him in his lab. He said it was important--please go at once.”

Ahote sighed. “I guess he heard we left training early.”

“He did,” Athena confirmed. “My condolences.”

Ahote waved a hand--a force of habit--as he stood. “I should’ve expected it,” he said, picking up his hairtie from the desk and pulling his water-slick hair back. “Thanks for telling me.”

“Of course, Mr. Talas,” Athena said, before she stopped speaking entirely.

Ahote moved to open his door, then froze, blinking at the white expanse. He had no idea where Winston’s lab was. “Athena?” he asked the air, looking up at the ceiling again.

“Yes, Mr. Talas?”

“Where, exactly, is Winston’s lab? Lena didn’t show me,” Ahote said, only a little sheepish. Since Athena was an AI, he felt marginally less embarrassed about admitting he didn’t know something.

The monitor to the computer flashed a moment before a map popped onto it. “I have pulled up a map of the compound on your computer,” Athena said. Ahote stepped over to inspect it as she continued, “Unfortunately, you do not have a printer in your room, so you will have to memorize the route, but I will notify you if you make a wrong turn.”

Ahote nodded, frowning a little as he stared at the map. “Alright,” he said. “Thanks, again.”

“Of course, Mr. Talas,” Athena said once more.

Ahote continued etching the map into his brain for another moment. Winston’s lab was a moderate distance away. Once Ahote was at least a little confident in his memorization of the path, he stepped out of his room and down the hall.

He passed several others through the halls, and made sure to give them polite nods and smiles. When he came across Angela, the doctor pulled him to the side a moment to ask if he was alright; she’d heard about Lehana’s “outburst.” Ahote nodded and reassured her (multiple times) that, yes, he was fine, a little scuffle wasn’t enough to phase him. Angela still looked a little doubtful when she finally let Ahote go, though she urged him to “Come visit me whenever you’re not busy!” She added with a wink, “A spoon as possible, as Winston would say!”

Ahote took wrong turns at some points as well, though whenever he did, Athena notified him with a gentle, “Wrong turn, Mr. Talas. Please turn left instead.” Ahote couldn’t help but compare Overwatch with Talon, and he was once again pleasantly surprised at how different the two organizations were.

When Ahote finally saw a door labelled _Lab_ , he stopped walking. He set his hand to the side of the door to try and open it. The door gave a rejecting beep, and a small voice said from the wall behind Ahote’s hand, “Entry denied--clearance to agent zero-one-three for this room has not been given.”

Ahote furrowed his brow at his hand before he heard some footsteps on the other side of the door. It slid open with a beep, and Ahote found himself face-to-face with Winston.

“Ah, Ahote,” Winston greeted quietly. He had a white labcoat on, and rectangular glasses perched over his nose. “Come in. I see I forgot to give you clearance to my lab. I’ll have to fix that.” He moved to the side to let Ahote in.

Ahote stepped in, glancing around the room. “No problem,” he murmured. For a gorilla’s lab, it seemed rather spotless. Counters and microscopes (as well as an armada of other tools Ahote couldn’t even begin to guess at the purpose of) gleamed under the bright, white lights. There was a large white sheet thrown over something on the counter opposite the door. Machines beeped and whirred quietly. Ahote got the feeling that this was always a place where something was always being worked on, no matter the time of day.

“Nice lab,” Ahote said once he finished his inspection, turning back to Winston.

“Thanks!” Winston replied, giving Ahote a toothy grin. His grin dropped as he said, “You noticed I called you in early, right?”

Ahote nodded, carefully watching Winston. He crossed his arms as he hazarded, “This is about my scuffle during training.”

Winston nodded, shuffling a little on his feet. “Zenyatta told me as soon as he could,” he said, “and I watched Athena’s security tapes to see for myself.”

Ahote nodded. He set his jaw and refused to reply, instead waiting for Winston to continue.

“And, uh,” Winston went on after he realized Ahote wasn’t going to speak, “I wanted to tell you that we don’t condone what Lehana did.”

Ahote blinked, surprised. He was certain he’d be blamed for what happened--he was the new guy, after all, and untrustworthy at best. “You...don’t?” he asked after a moment of silence.

Winston snorted. “What, you think Overwatch would allow its agents to have unsanctioned fights?” he asked.

Ahote wanted to say that Talon did all the time, but he kept his mouth shut as Winston continued.

“No, I gave her a stern talking-to. She shouldn’t bother you anymore; I gave her bathroom duty for a few days, and forbade her from leaving the Watchpoint for a week, to make sure she doesn’t pull anything like that again. If she bothers you, please tell me as soon as you can.”

Ahote stayed silent for another moment, staring at Winston, his jaw slackened (but not open) in surprise. He hadn’t expected such swift retribution--or any at all, if he was being frank. It had been in a training facility that was built for combat, after all.

“--Thanks,” Ahote quickly said once he realized Winston was shuffling awkwardly again, waiting for a response. “I just, uh, wasn’t expecting that. Sorry.”

Winston frowned. “Well, she attacked you,” he said. “As long as you’re a member of Overwatch, we’re not gonna let that slide.”

Ahote nodded. “Right,” he said, quietly. “My mistake, then.”

Winston waved a hand. “No harm done,” he said. “Just try to have a little more faith in us.” He gave Ahote another well-meaning grin before he said, “Now, you don’t have anything to do until you’re supposed to start in here, right?”

Ahote shrugged a shoulder. “Not really,” he said.

“Great!” Winston replied, far too enthusiastically. “Then there’s no reason why you shouldn’t begin your lesson early. There’s a lot to catch up on!”

Ahote blinked and briefly considered trying to get out of it, but honestly, he had nowhere else to go. He was sure suffering through a lesson wouldn’t be all bad, and he figured Winston would go easy, given it was his first “class” in years. Winston led him to a counter, and Ahote sat on a stool, watching the gorilla as he began to lecture and walk to the chalkboard.

 

Ahote walked out of the lab several hours later with a pounding headache and heavy eyelids at _06:00_ PM sharp. Winston had lessons for different sections prepared; he said he’d be focusing on the basics of math, composition, and science for now, but he’d eventually get into extracurriculars like art and social studies. Ahote felt like his head was going to burst with how much information was crammed in it--names and dates and equations floated around his head, though none of them matched up.

He had a lime green folder with paper stuffed into it, and a pen in his other hand. Winston had spoken for 20 minutes about atoms before he’d realized Ahote wasn’t taking any notes. He’d sounded hurt, but when he’d realized Ahote had nothing, he’d given him some utensils.

Ahote reached up to block his gaping mouth as a large yawn escaped him. He shook the grogginess off as he walked down the hall. He’d forgotten how much he hated school. He wanted nothing more than to curl up on his bed and--

As Ahote turned the corner, he crashed into somebody. He managed to hold his ground (his robotic leg gave a sharp flare of pain that he grit his teeth to ignore), but he saw the other person begin to fall as they yelled, “Whoa--!” As if in slow motion, Ahote dropped his folder--his papers fluttering everywhere on the floor--and shot his hand out to grip the other person’s forearm in an attempt to stop their descent.

Ahote blinked down at the victim, finally recognizing them as Lúcio, who was grinning up at him. “Nice catch!” Lúcio said, standing up on his own.

“Thanks,” Ahote said, pulling his hand away once Lúcio didn’t need his support any more. “Uh, sorry--”

“Nah, man, it’s my fault,” Lúcio interrupted, waving a hand. “I was too in the zone, you know? Skating down the hall without watching where I was going.” He looked down at the papers covering their feet, and Ahote followed his gaze. “What’s with all the paper?”

“School,” Ahote sighed as he bent at the knees to begin gathering the papers. Lúcio followed suit, piling the sheets in his hands. “I didn’t have anything for notes, so Winston...went a little overboard.”

“Maybe a little,” Lúcio agreed with a laugh, “but he’s just excited. He loves teaching people new stuff.”

“Right,” Ahote grumbled. “I got a _lot_ of ‘new stuff’ today.” He stood back up, sliding the papers he’d grabbed into his folder.

“He’ll get better,” Lúcio said, standing as well. He offered the papers he’d gathered to Ahote, who took them and slid them into the folder as well. “Where are you heading now?”

“Bed.”

“Aw, that’s too bad,” Lúcio said. “I was just about to get some dinner.”

Ahote’s stomach gave a loud growl at the mention of dinner. He blinked, startled--he hadn’t even realized he’d skipped out on lunch.

Lúcio’s mouth twisted into a grin at the sound. “You sure you don’t wanna come?” he asked.

Ahote considered for a moment before his stomach gave another hollow rumble. He sighed and said, “Alright. Let me put this in my room, though.”

Lúcio gave him a smile as he nodded. “Sure thing, man!” he said as Ahote brushed past.

After Ahote quickly put the folder and pen on his desk, he made his way back to Lúcio, who was still waiting for him by the corner. As Ahote approached, he asked Lúcio, “How do you do this?”

“Do what?” Lúcio asked innocently, walking at his side.

“Talk me into eating with you,” Ahote said, crossing his arms. “I haven’t had a meal here yet without you.”

“I’m great dinner conversation,” Lúcio said, laughter on the edge of his voice. “And we’ve only had--what, three meals together? That’s not a big pool.”

“That’s fair,” Ahote grumbled, dropping the issue.

Lúcio frowned in thought for a second, then said, “Wait--did you skip lunch today?”

Ahote nodded.

“Well, no wonder your stomach was so loud, man!” Lúcio said, shaking his head. “You can’t do that. You need your energy.”

“Yeah,” Ahote said. “I know. I just...forgot.” He reached up to rub a tired eye with the heel of his palm.

After a moment, Lúcio asked, “Man, Winston really beat you, huh?”

Ahote shrugged a shoulder. “It was a long day,” he slowly said. “I’ll get used to it.”

Lúcio shot Ahote a doubtful glance before he shrugged. “If you’re sure,” he said as the two stepped into the kitchen. “Go and sit down,” he said, motioning towards the island counter he’d sat at in the morning. “I’ll make something quick so you can get to bed.”

Ahote stopped walking as Lúcio stepped towards the fridge. “Uh,” he said, unsure, “you don’t have to--”

“You only know how to make eggs,” Lúcio said, glancing over his shoulder at Ahote, “right? Unless I dreamed it, you already made eggs this morning.”

Ahote sighed, too tired to argue, and made his way over to the counter. “Alright,” he said. Once he sat down, he muttered, “Thanks.” He didn’t think Lúcio heard him.

As Lúcio stepped briskly around the kitchen, Ahote leaned his chin on his palm. He watched Lúcio whenever he was in eyesight, but he tried not to be too obvious. Lúcio was in casual wear--sneakers, sweats, and a T-shirt with a sort of...rabbit? On the front. His tattoo poked out from the sleeves, and Ahote mused about it for a moment. He wondered why a frog, but he decided not to ask.

They didn’t talk as Lúcio prepared the food. Ahote was tired and didn’t want to distract Lúcio, who seemed absorbed in his cooking. It wasn’t long before Lúcio set a plate down in front of Ahote, the warm aroma of toast lingering in the air.

“Eat up,” Lúcio said. “You’ll be full in no time.”

Ahote blinked down at the plate in front of him. It had something that looked like shredded chicken (with other things, namely peas and corn, mixed throughout) sandwiched between two pieces of lightly toasted bread. He waited for Lúcio to take a bite before he bit into his own sandwich.

He blinked at the explosion of flavor, chewing thoughtfully before he swallowed. “What is this?”

“Salpicão,” Lúcio said after he swallowed his bite. At Ahote’s furrowed brow, he smiled and continued, “It’s just...chicken salad, basically.” He took another bite.

Ahote nodded. “It’s...good,” he decided after a moment. “Thanks, again.”

Lúcio shrugged a shoulder. “No problem,” he said. “If you need to eat without someone who can cook, there are some pre-made meals in the back of the fridge--never as good as a fresh meal, but they can hold you over.”

Ahote nodded before he swallowed his bite again. He was halfway done with the sandwich. “Thank you,” he said. “Not just for, uh, the advice, but...for being so helpful.”

“No problem,” Lúcio replied. “With the way some of the others are treating you, I figure _someone’s_ gotta make you wanna stay.”

“It would take a lot more than a couple members justified in their hate to run me off,” Ahote said. “But I appreciate the sentiment.”

“They’re not _that_ justified,” Lúcio said as he waved a hand. “Ro shouldn’t have attacked you like that.”

Ahote shrugged a shoulder noncommittally as he took another bite. They ate in silence for a few minutes, until their plates were cleared.

“You should go to bed,” Lúcio said as he stood and grabbed Ahote’s plate, stacking it on top of his own. “You look dead on your feet.”

“No arguments here,” Ahote said as he stood as well. Lúcio stepped over to the sink, depositing the dishes in it. “What are you gonna do?” Ahote asked.

Lúcio shrugged. “Probably stop by the rec room,” he said. “Hang out with the others for a bit, maybe work on that song you heard this morning.”

Ahote nodded. “Alright,” he said after a few beats. “Uh. ‘Night, Lúcio.”

Lúcio waved at him as they parted after they exited the kitchen. “See you, Ahote.”

Ahote slowly strolled back to his room, his hands in his hoodie’s pockets. He felt a lot better after eating; he was still exhausted, but his headache had all but completely disappeared. He wasn’t quite sure what to think of his first full day as a member of Overwatch; he couldn’t decide whether it’d been good or bad, or what those terms exactly entailed. He settled on picking later, when his eyes didn’t feel like they had bowling balls hanging from them.

Once Ahote reached his bedroom, he didn’t waste any time before he fell face-first onto his bed. Sleep eluded him for a long time, but when he finally found it, his blanket, shirt, and pants had found their way off his body and...somewhere in his room.

His last thought before drifting off into the inky blackness was that he was grateful to be with Overwatch.


	6. Development

Ahote’s next three months with Overwatch followed essentially the same schedule laid out on his first full day. Lehana initiated less fights, however--and had seemed to resolve to avoid Ahote entirely. If he’d rounded a corner while walking through the halls and saw her, she’d spin around and start walking the opposite way again.

He’d asked McCree about it one morning, sitting on the cliffside during sunrise. They’d met like that a few times after the first--Ahote liked reading up there at night, and often found himself falling asleep there and being woken up by McCree walking down the path. McCree started to bring up two cups of coffee instead of just one after catching Ahote several times.

McCree had shrugged, and drawled while looking at the horizon, “I can’t say I know what’s goin’ through Rookie’s head at the best of times. Doubt she’s scared’a you, though--prolly just tryna avoid another fight.”

Ahote had stayed silent for a moment before he’d pressed, “Then why did she start one in the first place?”

McCree had taken a long sip from his mug as he’d thought. A breeze had blown past them, tickling Ahote’s nose with a strand of his own hair.

“Rookie’s impulsive,” McCree had finally settled on. “Doesn’t think things through, most times. If she were a rattler, she’d bite before she rattled, ‘n’ not after.” He’d been silent for another moment before he continued, “Maybe she was tryna test ya. Maybe she just hates ya. Like I said, I don’t know half of what goes on in her head.”

Ahote had stared at the waves for a moment more before nodding and getting up for the day. He didn’t ask McCree about Lehana after that; he figured the cowboy was as confused by her as Ahote was.

His lesson plan had changed, as well. After about two weeks of getting barely any sleep, training for the full amount every day, and Winston’s intense six-hour lessons, Ahote had blacked out while walking through the halls. When he’d woken up, Lúcio’s frowning face had been the first one he’d seen.

“Jeez, Ahote!” Lúcio had said, falling back in his seat. “I don’t even know what to say.”

Ahote had glanced around. He’d been in the med room--the white walls had been bare save for the regular clinical posters about specific diseases, and a heart monitor had been beeping steadily next to him. He’d glanced at the IV lines stuck into his arm uneasily before he’d returned his gaze to Lúcio.

“How long was I out?” he’d asked.

Lúcio had shrugged a shoulder. “Not long,” he said. “Couple hours, tops. But that’s not the point here. You shouldn’t have passed out at all.”

“I’ll try to hold out a little longer next time,” Ahote had replied, as he’d tried to push himself up into a seated position.

“Uh, no,” Lúcio had said, almost scoffing in disbelief. “You could’ve talked it over with Winston. He was working you way too hard.” He’d gently pushed at Ahote’s shoulder with one hand, trying to coax him back down. “Relax, man. Rest. You haven’t got anywhere to be.”

Ahote had sighed, reluctantly following Lúcio’s instructions. He’d glanced back up at the IV bag and asked, “What’s in the IV?”

“Fluids,” Lúcio had replied. “Water, mostly--Angie said you were dehydrated.” He’d sighed, crossing his arms as he’d leaned back in his seat. “You do know you need water to live, too, right? And sleep.”

“Yeah,” Ahote had said, heat rushing to his cheeks. He’d felt a little silly, being lectured like that, but he’d supposed he’d earned it.

Lúcio had watched him for another moment, awaiting more of a response, before he’d sighed again. “Look, I don’t mean to lecture. It’s just that all of this--the training, and Winston’s lessons--are supposed to make you feel better, not worse,” he’d said. “If you’re constantly tired and dehydrated, something’s not working. But unless you say something, nobody’s gonna think to fix it, you know?”

Ahote had nodded silently. He hadn’t volunteered a response.

Lúcio had stayed silent for a moment, waiting, before he’d said, “I get it. You’ve got something to prove or whatever, since you’re the new guy, but--”

“It’s not that,” Ahote had interrupted.

“Then what is it?” Lúcio had asked. He’d been watching Ahote earnestly; Ahote could tell he’d honestly wanted to understand.

Ahote had watched him for another moment, gnawing on his bottom lip in thought, before he’d slid his gaze to an informational poster about HIV. He’d stared at it stubbornly as he’d said, “I’m just...not used to all this. Talon isn’t like Overwatch. If I’d asked for a schedule change, or less rigorous training, I would’ve been--” He’d shaken his head, revising his words. “It wouldn’t have happened.”

Lúcio had been silent for a long time. When Ahote had looked back to him, he’d had a thoughtful frown on his face, a furrow between his brows. “I...get that,” he’d said, slowly. “But you gotta remember, Ahote, we’re not Talon. Winston isn’t gonna say no just ‘cause he likes your schedule the way it is. We won’t yell at you for asking for a break. Everyone needs a break sometimes--and they get it, within reason.”

Ahote had nodded, silent again. Lúcio had waited for response again before he said, “You just need to key into your body’s needs more, man. Eat, sleep, drink, all that. I won’t give you too much of a hard time, though--Angie’s going to, once she hears you’re awake.”

Ahote had grimaced at that bit of news. “Great,” he’d deadpanned. He’d already seen hints of the doctor’s particular brand of medical advice during training, and he hadn’t been looking forward to receiving the full brunt of it while in a bed. “When can I get up?”

Lúcio had shrugged. “Probably as soon as Angie looks at you,” he’d said. “An hour, maybe? She may keep you a little longer as payback for being so hardheaded, though.”

“That’s probably fair,” Ahote had assented. A thought had come to him then, and he’d furrowed his brow at Lúcio. “Can I ask--?” He’d stopped, though at Lúcio’s nod, continued, “Why are you...here?”

Lúcio had blinked, before he’d leaned back in his seat, crossing his legs at the knees and interlacing his fingers. “Well,” he’d drawled, “whenever Angie needs a break, I’m technically the acting medical official on base.” A playful grin had crossed his face as he’d dropped the pose and said, “And I was worried, man. It’s not every day you turn a corner and see your friend lying there, passed out, you know?”

The word _friend_ had resonated around Ahote’s head more than he’d care to admit. He’d nodded, averting his gaze for just a moment, before he’d replied, “Then...thanks. I, uh, appreciate the help. And, you know, you being here.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Lúcio had said, waving a hand. “What else are teammates for?” he’d asked as he’d stood up. “I’m gonna go find Angie for you. You wanna get up a spoon as possible, right?” he’d asked, a grin brightening his face at the reference.

“Does Winston say that a lot?” Ahote had asked, faintly amused at the prolific phrase.

“Aw, every email,” Lúcio had laughed. “You can thank Athena for that one.”

“You are welcome, Lúcio,” Athena’s voice had briefly responded.

“That’s my girl!” Lúcio had called to the ceiling. With an easy grin still on his face, he’d looked back to Ahote. “Right--Angie.” He’d waved as he’d stepped through the exit. “See you later, Aho!”

Ahote had wrinkled his nose a little at the nickname, but it hadn’t been long before Angela had entered the room. She’d fussed over him, told him that she’d spoken with Winston about a new schedule, and had lectured him for half an hour on the importance of a good sleep schedule and proper hydration, before she’d released him.

After that, Ahote’s lessons with Winston ended far earlier, and had much less crammed into them. Winston had apologized, and told Ahote that he’d tried modeling the lesson plan after actual American school. He’d assented that it’d been a bad idea, since actual American kids in school don’t normally have to train for combat for several hours beforehand.

For the following month or so, Ahote had felt a lot better with Overwatch. He’d fallen into a rhythm, and stopped actively avoiding the other members. He’d still spent more time alone than he did with the others, of course, but he’d started going to the rec room a little more often. He’d come across a couple of the others--namely Mei and Genji--in the library a few times, too. They’d recommended books to him once they realized he hadn’t read very much; he hadn’t liked reading as a kid, and Talon hadn’t had much in the way of literature. Mei had mostly given him poetry to try out--he had to admit, there was a certain beauty in it--while Genji had suggested novels that featured mainly action and romance.

About a month after his trip to the med room, Ahote had found himself on a supply run off of the base, to a nearby city--Algeciras. Members usually drove there using a van, so only a few of the members had been able to go; Ahote had sat in the far back, with Lúcio next to him, and Lena next to Lúcio. The row in front of them had housed Angela and Genji, while Lehana had driven the vehicle, with Hana in the passenger’s seat.

Ahote hadn’t enjoyed the first part of the drive; he’d been pressed against the wall of the car, trying not to jump every time Lúcio’s knee had unexpectedly bumped against his own. Once they’d reached the main freeway, however, Ahote had relaxed some as he’d stared out the window. Azure waters had twinkled merrily under the bright sun, and the imposing form of the Rock of Gibraltar had looked daunting from that far away, even without showing off the base Ahote had known was there.

Ahote’s peaceful thoughts had been interrupted by Lehana laying on the loud horn for a good three seconds. When the long honk had ceased, she’d shouted, “Asshole!”

“Calm down, Ro,” Hana had droned, as if she’d been in that situation before.

“He nearly ran right into me!” Lehana had argued, heated. “Song, put on my racing playlist--I’m gonna teach this dickwad some manners.”

“Don’t make me climb up there and kick you out, Ro!” Lena had shouted, leaning forward in her seat.

“He can’t get away with this, Oxton!” Lehana had shouted, pointing exasperatedly at the tail-end of the car in front of her. “He’s gonna kill someone!”

“You’ll kill _us_ if you get in a street race,” Angela had calmly replied. “Let him go, Lehana.”

“I have faith in Lehana’s ability to safely street race,” Genji had chimed in.

“ _Thank_ you, Genji!” Lehana had shouted. “Song, playlist!”

As the rest of the car had argued over the situation, Ahote had quietly muttered, “I wonder if this happens a lot.”

He’d jumped a little in surprise when Lúcio had replied in kind, “Only whenever Ro’s driving. She gets mad easily, if you hadn’t noticed.”

Ahote had huffed a laugh, still watching Lehana animatedly argue her case. “Glad to know it’s not just with me.”

The rest of the ride to Algeciras had been filled with chatter; Ahote hadn’t participated in it, but he’d listened. He’d learned that Lehana had more than one of Lúcio’s songs on her phone, and that Hana wasn’t such a big fan of R&B.

When they’d parked in the city, they’d all stood next to the van while Lena had delivered a speech, read from a sheet of paper. The only important thing that Ahote had gleaned from the “speech” was that they had about five hours to buy...whatever.

When Lena had mentioned sticking to a buddy, however, Ahote had started to get antsy. He’d already seen people pairing off--Lúcio and Hana had walked briskly off together, both already making jokes. Angela had left with Genji in the opposite direction, which had left Ahote with Lena and Lehana.

They’d all stared at each other for a moment. When Ahote had met Lehana’s gaze, she’d dropped her sunglasses from her forehead to cover her eyes.

“Well!” Lena had chirped, placing her hands on her hips, “We might as well get started! I doubt the others will buy anything Winston told us to get, so we should focus on the checklist.”

Ahote had nodded as he’d crossed his arms. “Good idea,” he’d said. “What’s first?”

As Lena had led them around the city, Ahote and Lehana had maintained an uneasy silence. He’d wanted to extend a peace offering of some sort, but Lena had kept the both of them busy; every time she’d bought something, she’d pile the bags into their arms. After a few purchases, Ahote had felt more like a walking suitcase than a person.

Lehana voiced Ahote’s thoughts when she’d asked, “Think you got enough junk yet, Oxton?”

“It’s not junk!” Lena had incredulously replied, frowning at Lehana over her shoulder. After a moment, however, she’d shrugged and looked forward again. “Yeah, alright, most of it’s rubbish. But Winston asked for it, so it’s up to us to provide!”

“Maybe we can keep _providing_ after a trip to the van?” Lehana had suggested. “Mister ‘Work Till I Pass Out’ over here prolly won’t admit this, but I will: this shit’s heavy.”

Ahote had snorted in amusement at the nickname. “Lehana’s right,” he’d said to answer Lena’s questioning glance.

“Well, now that we’re properly in the Twilight Zone,” Lehana had muttered.

“Twilight Zone?” Lena had asked.

Lehana had shrugged a shoulder. “Old TV show. Kinda took place in this universe where weird stuff happened--like Mister ‘Never Smiles Ever’ laughing at one of my jokes, then agreeing with me.”

“My name’s Ahote,” Ahote had replied, “and I’m not looking to be your enemy, Lehana.”

Lehana had been silent for a moment. They’d turned the corner, and the van had finally been in sight. “‘Course you aren’t,” Lehana had grumbled. It had sounded mostly dubious, though Ahote had thought he could hear some grudging belief.

After their bounty was stored in the van, Lena had sighed, wiping at her forehead with a hand. “Well!” she’d said. “We got about half of what’s on the list--that’s as much as Winston expects, anyways. We can take a break!”

“Let’s go to the arcade,” Lehana had quickly suggested.

Lena had smiled at Lehana and said, “I like the way you think, Ro!” She’d then looked at Ahote and asked, “Ahote?”

“What?” Ahote had asked, with a blink.

“Do you want to go to the arcade?” Lena had continued.

Ahote had nodded slowly, unsure himself. “Alright,” he’d said.

“Yes!” Lehana had cheered, whirling around on her foot to begin marching confidently to the arcade, Ahote had assumed. “Mama’s gonna get herself a new toy!”

The arcade had been pretty standard, really. There’d been some people Ahote hadn’t recognized playing at some consoles--Ahote had tensed up when he’d seen them, and had watched them warily until they’d left. The ticketmaster had been an omnic with a placid-seeming expression carved into their faceplate. Lúcio and Hana had been there as well, huddled around an arcade machine. When Lúcio had spotted them, he’d shot them all a grin and a wave.

“Looks like I’m gonna have to fight to keep my DDR Queen title today,” Lehana had chuckled, immediately making her way over to Lúcio.

Lena had snickered, then leaned over to tell Ahote, “If she challenges you to DDR, let her win. She’s a diehard fan.”

“I’m sure that won’t be a problem,” Ahote had said, crossing his arms. “I don’t dance.”

“Aw, you should at least say yes!” Lena had replied. “It’s still buckets of fun!”

Lehana had made her way back over to them then, her eyes trained on Lena. “Oxton?” she’d asked. “Up for a DDR match?”

Lena had shrugged helplessly. “Sorry, Ro!” she’d said. “I’ve got a skeeball machine singing my name.”

“C’mon, Oxton,” Lehana had whined. “Just one round! Who else am I gonna battle with? Lúcio’s busy with Song.”

“You could always go with Ahote!” Lena had chirped.

Lehana had stared at Ahote for a moment, and he’d stared back, until he’d looked at Lena and asked, “Do you think that’s smart?”

Lena had shrugged. “Well, you two aren’t at each other’s throats anymore!” she’d reasoned. “And besides, some friendly competition will bring you closer!”

“You’re just trying to make us get along,” Lehana had interpreted. At Lena’s nod, she’d sighed, “Curse my love for rhythm-based games.” She’d looked back at Ahote and asked, “Well?”

Ahote had glanced at Lena, who’d been nodding at him earnestly. “...Sure,” he’d finally replied, looking back at Lehana. “I’ve never played before, though.”

Lehana had given a smirk as she’d stepped towards the game and said, “Don’t think I’ll pull my punches just ‘cause you’re new.”

As Ahote had pulled himself up onto the silver stage, he’d replied, “I don’t expect you to.” He’d looked up at the flashing sign that said _DANCE DANCE REVOLUTION_ , then down at the lights glowing under his feet. He’d understood the game, at the very least; he’d just never practiced at it. He hadn’t missed Lehana tying her jacket around her waist, a serious expression on her face.

Ahote had quick reflexes--with Talon, he’d had to--but he’d been no chance against Lehana’s skill. She’d danced like it was second nature, and though Ahote hadn’t been awful, he hadn’t been able to match up with her perfect scores. Lehana hadn’t missed that fact, based on her competitive jabs, asking Ahote if he could keep up.

When _LOSER_ had flashed across his half of the screen, he’d stepped down from the stage, panting lightly. He hadn’t realized he’d been grinning until Lehana had said, still on the stage, “Hey, good game!”

Ahote had looked over his shoulder and informed her he’d be practicing for a rematch in the future. Lehana had chuckled as Hana had stepped up on the stage.

After that, Lehana had stopped avoiding Ahote. They were far from friends, he knew, but it was at least a start. She’d started telling him jokes, and he’d responded in kind. Everyone else seemed much less wary of having them in the same room, and they had training sessions together every so often.

Shortly after the trip to the city, a new member was flown onto base. McCree had introduced her to Ahote (and Lúcio and Mei) in the rec room. Ahote had read her file, at Winston’s request. Elisa Bellamy, age 33, former researcher and inventor for Overwatch. She was much shorter than McCree--nearly a foot, if Ahote had to guess. Her short, light brown hair had a single braid down the side, and she’d had a large, friendly grin on. She’d been dressed in casual clothes, with a black-and-white checkered scarf loosely around her neck.

“Hello!” she’d chirped at everyone. “I’m Elisa.”

Mei, sitting on the couch next to Lúcio, had nodded at her as she’d said, “Hi. I’m Mei.”

“Lúcio,” Lúcio had introduced, giving Elisa a wave. “Good to meet you, Elisa. Welcome to the group.”

“Thanks!” Elisa had replied, before her gaze had expectantly fallen to Ahote, perched on the armrest of the couch.

“Ahote,” he’d introduced, giving her a nod.

“Ahote!” she’d repeated. “You’re my roommate, yes?”

He’d nodded once again. Winston had pulled Ahote aside several days prior to make sure that the situation was alright with him. Ahote hadn’t been thrilled with the idea, but he’d reasoned that if Elisa had been with Overwatch before, she wouldn’t try to attack him in the night. Besides, he’d doubted Winston needed more stress, so he’d accepted the arrangements.

“Great!” Elisa had said, her smile brightening. “I see you’ve got a prosthetic,” she’d continued, motioning to his gleaming arm. Ahote had nodded again, and she’d said, “May I take a look at it sometime? Jesse refuses to let me look at his.” She’d glanced at McCree with a frown.

“Hey, my arm is workin’ fine,” McCree had defended, crossing his arms. “I don’t need you tinkerin’ with it and screwin’ it up.”

“I won’t screw it up,” Elisa had argued. “I’m a scientist! I know what I’m doing. I could improve it, or--”

“Save it,” McCree had said, waving her away. “We’ve gotta go. It’s almost dinnertime, ‘n’ you still aren’t registered with Athena.”

“Of course!” Elisa had replied. She’d looked at the group on the couch, giving another grin and a wave. “It was nice to meet you all! See you at dinner!”

A small chorus of farewells had followed her and McCree out of the room.

At the welcome dinner, Elisa had been quieter than Ahote had expected. She’d smiled and listened to conversations around her, but hadn’t started any of her own. Lena had managed to get her out of her shell, however, and by dessert, she’d been talking like any other regular member. Ahote had supposed it helped that she’d known most of the members back in the day.

Ahote had been mostly silent again, sandwiched between Lúcio and Genji. He’d taken more food than he had during his own welcome dinner, but it hadn’t seemed to be sufficient for Lúcio. When the DJ had caught Ahote trying to slip out while everyone got their dessert again, he’d tried to steer Ahote back to his seat while scolding, “Nu-uh, you’re not leaving right before the party starts _again_.”

“It’s just dessert,” Ahote had argued, even as he’d let Lúcio walk him back. “How much could I be missing?”

“Half the entire night,” Lúcio had replied. “Look, Lena told me that Elisa usually goes to bed pretty early. Once she leaves, you can, too.”

Ahote had scoffed, but he’d sat back down anyways. He found that everyone was a little more talkative when hopped up on sugar. He’d heard many stories that night--some funny, some sad, some just strange. Lúcio had been right; Elisa had stood up to leave only about half an hour after storytime had started. Ahote had stood up with her, and explained he’d walk back with her at her confused expression.

Their room had two bunks, a ladder leading to the upper bunk. When Ahote had asked Elisa which bunk she’d like, she’d said she had no preference--but that she would likely roll off during the night. Ahote had decided to give her the bottom bunk once he’d heard that.

Elisa had requested to look at his prosthetic again after that, though she’d reassured him that if he didn’t feel up to it that night, she could wait until the next day. He’d gratefully taken her up on that offer--he didn’t want a stranger poking around his person, let alone his robotic limbs. She’d been a little disappointed, though she hadn’t argued.

The first few nights Elisa was there, Ahote hadn’t slept in his bed. He’d went up to the alcove with a book, and fallen asleep there--when he could fall asleep at all. She might have been a former Overwatch member, but he still hadn’t trusted her enough to sleep in the same room as her. He’d assumed she wouldn’t notice, but after the third night, she’d stopped him before he’d stepped out of their shared room for training.

“Ahote,” she’d began, sitting on her bunk, “are you...alright?”

He’d stopped in front of the door, turning to look at her over his shoulder, his brow furrowed. “Why do you ask?”

“You’re just never here at night,” she’d explained, twiddling with her braid. “I’m worried, is all.”

Ahote had given her a shrug. “I’m fine,” he’d replied. “I just...can’t sleep at night, usually, so I go somewhere else.”

Elisa had nodded, though she’d still looked thoughtful as she’d watched him. “Right,” she’d said. “You should talk to Angie about that.” She’d waited a moment, then added, “But I’m glad you’re not in trouble. If you ever are--I want to be a good roommate. If you have anything you want to talk about, I’ll listen. I promise.”

Ahote had nodded, a little taken aback at such a serious statement. “Sure,” he’d said at first, at a loss. Then, with a tight smile, “...Thank you, Elisa.”

After that, Ahote had been a little less apprehensive about sleeping in their shared room, but it wasn’t until a few weeks after Elisa had first gotten there that he’d slept in his bed. He preferred the alcove, if he was honest with himself.

Near the beginning of Ahote’s third month with Overwatch, Lena had gone on a solo mission to investigate some concerns she’d had with some areas within King’s Row. While they ultimately hadn’t been much to worry about, on her way back to the watchpoint, she’d informed Winston that she had a new potential recruit named Nicola Marino. She’d sent a file over, that Winston had everyone read before Nicola arrived at the Watchpoint.

Ahote hadn’t liked how little was in the file. It had Nicola’s name, age, height, weight, hair color, eye color, but not much else. Lena had said that he’d called himself a mercenary, which had made Ahote trust him even less.

Ahote had been sure that there wasn’t any way he could trust Nicola less, but as soon as he’d been introduced to the man, he’d been proven wrong.

Ahote had met Nicola in the hallway, on his way to the library. Lena had stood beaming at his side as she’d said, “Ahote! Perfect, you can meet Nico.”

Ahote had to tilt his head to peer up at Nicola’s face. His short and messy black hair had been held back by a pair of red goggled perched on his head. Freckles dusted over his nose and cheekbones, and a wide grin had been on his face, his dark brown eyes curious. “Nicola Marino,” he’d introduced, extending a hand to Ahote. “You can call me Nico,” he’d added with a wink. He had the hint of an accent--Italian, maybe?

Ahote had stared at Nicola, unimpressed, for a moment, before looking down at his hand. It was made of black metal--a prosthetic. Ahote had glanced at Nicola’s other hand, which was of a similar material. Instead of taking his hand, Ahote had given him a stiff nod. “Ahote.”

Lena had whined, “Aw, c’mon, Ahote! I thought _you_ of all people would’ve at least been friendly!” Ahote had lifted a brow at Lena, who’d explained, “Nobody’s really warming up to Nico. I figured since you know what that’s like….”

“You overestimated my sympathy,” Ahote had replied flatly. “Sorry, Lena.”

Lena had given a mighty frown, but Nicola had chuckled loudly. When Ahote had looked back to him, the man’s grin was even wider--if that was possible. “Handsome _and_ brutally honest?” he’d asked. “I will have to get to know you better, Ahote.”

“Right,” Ahote had replied, trying to ignore the flush in his cheeks at _handsome_. “I’ll be on my way, then,” he’d said, eager to get away from Nicola.

The dinner hadn’t been much more bearable. Ahote had arrived later than usual, so he’d been forced to sit directly across from Nicola. Ahote had noted that Nicola seemed to be a natural at navigating conversations; he always had a charismatic grin on his face, and managed to make someone chuckle with something he said. Ahote’s mood had turned more and more sour as the dinner had worn on.

“Are you alright, Ahote?” Zenyatta had asked, hovering over the seat next to Ahote.

Ahote had glanced up from his plate to the omnic. “Yeah,” he’d said, slowly. “Why do you ask?”

“Your facial expression leads me to believe you are in a bad mood,” Zenyatta had chimed peacefully. “Do you not enjoy Mr. Marino’s company?”

Ahote had glanced at Nicola, to ensure that he wasn’t listening in, before he’d grumbled, “Not really.”

“Perhaps you should leave early tonight, then,” Zenyatta had suggested. “You may benefit from ‘sleeping on it,’ as some organics are fond of saying.”

Ahote had hesitated before he’d nodded. “That’s...a good idea, Zenyatta,” he’d replied. “Thanks.”

“You are welcome, Ahote,” Zenyatta had chimed. “Also, if I may advise you to try focusing on someone else other than Mr. Marino, your night may not be so sour.”

Ahote had nodded again. “Another good idea,” he’d said. He’d thanked Zenyatta again, before he’d tuned into the person speaking on his other side--Elisa, who’d been in the middle of a very technical and heated discussion with Torbjörn. It had distracted Ahote long enough, until he’d been able to get up with the tide heading to the dessert table.

Ahote had thought he’d escaped without being noticed, but as he’d stepped into the hallway outside the kitchen, he’d heard the door to the dining room beep and open, as well. He’d looked back, and had been a little relieved to see Lúcio.

“Skipping out again?” Lúcio had asked, approaching Ahote, who’d still been standing in the doorway. “Didn’t we talk about this last time?”

“Sorry,” Ahote had apologized. “I’m...not really feeling a party tonight.”

Lúcio had stopped a few feet in front of him, a frown crossing his face. “You okay, man?”

Ahote had shrugged a shoulder. “Fine,” he’d replied. “I just...don’t trust Nicola.”

Lúcio had nodded. “He is a little slick,” he’d agreed, “but...we should at least give him the benefit of the doubt, you know? Mercenary life can’t be easy, even with what they do.”

“If he wasn’t lying,” Ahote had grumbled.

“Why would he be lying?” Lúcio had asked.

“To make himself look better?” Ahote had suggested.

“Then why wouldn’t he say he’s...I dunno, a doctor? A mercenary isn’t that good, either,” Lúcio had replied.

Ahote had shaken his head. “I don’t know,” he’d said. “A mercenary is probably easier to pull off. And an improvement is an improvement.” He’d sighed, looking down. “Look, all I know is, I did a little digging, and I couldn’t find _anything_ on a Nicola Marino. A common mercenary would at least have _something_ on him, right?”

Lúcio had watched Ahote for a moment before he’d slowly said, “I dunno how to say this, but...someone may think you’re reaching, Ahote.”

“I might be,” Ahote had agreed. “Just--you’re his roommate, right?” At Lúcio’s nod, Ahote had continued, “If he does something, you know where to find me, right?”

Lúcio had flashed a grin. “Are you being protective, Ahote?” he’d asked, crossing his arms.

“What?” Ahote had asked. “No. I just don’t trust him.”

Lúcio had snickered as he’d said, “Thanks. I’ll be fine, though--I can kick some ass when I need to.”

Ahote had nodded. “Of course,” he’d said. “My offer still stands.” He’d taken a step farther into the hall.

“My thanks still stands,” Lúcio had replied, moving back into the kitchen. “Feel better, huh?”

Ahote had nodded. “I’ll try.”

The door had slid shut between them then, putting an end to the conversation.

For the following month, not much changed between Ahote and Nicola. True to his word, Nicola tried to get closer to Ahote, but every time he tried, Ahote shoved him away. Ahote _knew_ Nicola was hiding something, and it was nothing good. He insisted on keeping his distance.

By the end of Ahote’s third month with Overwatch, he was at least on speaking terms with the other members of the team (excluding Nicola). It was at that point that Winston decided Ahote was ready for his first real team mission. He hoped Winston was right.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so the plot REALLY begins ;)  
> Elisa "Packet" Bellamy belongs to my friend ivy, who can be found at wallywestforpresident.tumblr.com!!  
> Nicola "Malocchio" Marino belongs to my friend adri!! She can be found at tendercrush.tumblr.com!!


	7. Preparation

Ahote stepped through the glass doors and into the meeting room quietly. He was a little early--he’d learned quickly to show up early, or risk sitting next to somebody who never stopped talking. He was the only one in the room so far. He glanced at the clock: _07:45_.

Ahote sat in a seat next to the end of the table, so nobody could sit on his left. The others usually didn’t start filing in until a few minutes before the meeting. Ahote had thought this one would be an exception, though--it was a mission briefing, rather than a regular chores-and-training-schedule meeting.

Ahote knew they were leaving later that day--flying to Japan. He didn’t know why, however, or who else was coming on the mission. Ahote assumed they’d be told at that meeting.

When Genji strolled through the doors, Ahote lifted a hand to wave a little at him. “Genji,” Ahote greeted.

Genji inclined his head towards Ahote. “Ahote.” He had a sweatshirt on over his bodysuit (it was black and said _GOT HUMANITY?_ on the front in thin white font), though his face-mask was off, revealing his messy black hair and heavily scarred face. He stepped immediately to the head of the table, beginning to tap rapidly at the console that was imbedded in the surface.

Ahote raised a brow as he watched Genji. “Is Winston not coming?” he asked.

Genji shook his head, glancing up at Ahote. “He is,” he said. “I have to access some information for him, however.”

Ahote nodded, frowning in thought. If Genji had to provide information for Winston, then the mission would likely deal with him--perhaps his brother? Ahote had heard about the infamous fratricide of the older Shimada brother, though he knew he didn’t have the whole story. If he was being frank, he didn’t want it.

After Genji finished tapping at the console, he gave a satisfied nod before taking his seat next to the head of the table. He leaned forward to look at Ahote, who stared in return.

“Why are you sitting so far away?” Genji asked.

Ahote blinked, glancing at the seats between them. “Uh,” he said, “I always sit here.”

“Only the people who are going on the mission come to mission briefings,” Genji said. “You can sit wherever you like.”

Ahote nodded slowly before he stood up. “...Right,” he said. He felt a little foolish as he moved down a few seats, firmly sitting one chair away from Genji.

Genji shrugged a shoulder before he asked, “How have you been settling in? It has been a few months, now.”

“Fine, thanks,” Ahote answered automatically. When Genji continued watching him, he added, “Everyone’s been...nice, lately.”

Genji nodded. “I noticed,” he said. “Jesse told me the other day that he was looking forward to coming on this mission with you, as it is a chance to see you in the field.”

Ahote blinked, partly from surprise and partly from disbelief. “Are you sure it was him?” he asked. “Not just another gunslinger that snuck onto base?”

Genji chuckled a little. “It was him,” he affirmed. “It seems your morning cave talks pay off, yes?”

“You know about those?” Ahote asked, heat rising to his cheeks. He wasn’t sure why he was embarrassed, exactly; they’d just always felt...secret.

“Of course,” Genji said. His tone was friendly as he continued, “Jesse has been going up to that cave since our Blackwatch days. He complained to me about you as soon as he found out you had discovered it, too.”

Ahote snorted. “That sounds more like him,” he said. “Still, though--thanks for telling me.”

Genji waved a hand. “Of course,” he said. “Jesse does not compliment people to their face nearly as often as he should.”

Ahote glanced at the clock again-- _7:54_ \--before someone else walked into the room quietly. Ahote quickly frowned when he saw it was Nicola strolling through the doors, his steps strangely silent on the metal floor.

“Ah!” Nicola smiled when his eyes landed on Genji and Ahote. “Good morning, _uomini bellissimi_!” he greeted, moving down the table on the opposite side from Genji and Ahote.

Genji nodded at Nicola. “Good morning, Nico,” he greeted. When Nicola’s eyes landed on Ahote next, Ahote gave a stiff nod of greeting.

“I see you still don’t trust me, Ahote,” Nicola said as he sat down across from Ahote. “What a shame--we could be very good friends if you got to know me a little better, I assure you,” he said with a grin.

“Sorry to disappoint,” Ahote said flatly.

“Are you coming on the mission, Nico?” Genji quickly asked. “I assumed Winston would consider you too new.”

Nicola turned his gleaming grin onto Genji, and shrugged. “I asked specifically to come along,” he said. “I’ve more than proven myself in training, yes? And besides, it’s a covert mission, isn’t it? I’m _very_ good at sneaking around.”

Ahote lifted an eyebrow as he sat back in his seat, crossing his arms. He opened his mouth to ask how Nicola knew it was a covert mission, but he was interrupted when Genji said, “Teamwork is an important part of it, too--not just skill.”

“Believe me,” Nicola said, a chuckle at the edge of his voice, “I can play nice.” He glanced meaningfully at Ahote as he continued, “And I’m sure everyone else can, too.”

Genji opened his mouth to say something else, but the door opened again, silencing him. Lúcio stepped into the room, a bright grin on his face. He waved at everyone as he approached Ahote and Genji. “Morning, everyone!” he greeted.

“Good morning, Lúcio,” Genji said as Lúcio sat between him and Ahote.

Ahote gave Lúcio a nod, and quietly said, “Hey.”

Lúcio flashed Ahote a smile before he looked over at Nicola. “Nico, how’d you get here so quick, man?” he asked. “We left at the same exact time.”

Nicola shrugged a shoulder, his regular grin still across his face. “I make it a point to know the layout of where I’m staying _very_ well.”

Lúcio nodded. “Uh-huh,” he said. “Just like Ahote. I swear, he knew this place like the back of his hand within a few hours.”

Ahote shifted uncomfortably in his seat as everyone’s eyes glanced to him for a second. “I guess,” he muttered, not wanting to admit to having anything in common with Nicola. He glanced up at the clock again-- _07:58_ \--as he asked, “Where’s Winston?”

“I think he’s--” Lúcio began, but he paused as the gorilla in question stepped through the doors. “Coming right now,” he finished, then gave Winston a wave and a grin. “Hey, Winston!”

Winston gave Lúcio a nod as he approached the head of the table. “Morning, everyone,” he grumbled. Ahote didn’t know much about gorilla physiology, but he thought Winston looked tired--his blinks were slow and languid, and he yawned largely once he reached the head of the table.

“Were you up late again, Winston?” Genji asked, sympathy coloring his voice.

Winston nodded, glancing down at the console. “I see you already brought up the recordings,” he said. “Thank you, Genji. At least one of us is prepared today.”

Genji nodded. “It is important to me that we investigate this as quickly as possible.”

Winston sighed, glancing at the empty seats next to him. “If only some of your teammates felt that way, too.”

The teammates in question walked through the door then, boisterously laughing at something. Lehana had an arm wrapped around McCree’s shoulders, hanging on for dear life as she wheezed at something.

“Glad to know you two could join us,” Winston said flatly.

McCree looked up at Winston, an amused grin on his face. “Aw, calm down, big guy,” he said as he waved Winston off, making his way to his seat with Lehana. “We ain’t late.”

“Maybe so,” Winston grumbled. “Just sit down.” He stayed silent as McCree took the seat next to him. Lehana sat between McCree and Nicola, still grinning a little.

“C’mon, Winston, lighten up,” she says. “This can’t be _that_ serious, can it?”

“You tell me,” Winston said firmly. “Genji came across this conversation while monitoring radio frequencies coming from the Shimada compound.” Winston pressed a finger to the console in front of him.

A staticky voice spoke over the speakers in Japanese. A hologram popped up in the middle of the table, providing what Ahote assumed was a translation.

“What do you mean?” the voice said--the man speaking sounded a little panicked. “Of course starting it up is a good idea.”

“I’m just worried,” a woman responded in Japanese, the hologram translating for her as well. “How do we know it won’t turn on us after we help it? You saw what happened to Takada.”

“Takada didn’t respect it,” the man responded, scoffing a little. “He was foolish. We won’t make the same mistakes.”

“But we can’t trust it,” the woman insisted.

“That omnium is starting up with or without the help of the Shimadas,” the man replied. “We might as well fight to get on its good side.”

The audio cut out then. Everyone remained silent after that, absorbing the conversation. Ahote frowned down at his hands, clasped in his lap. He was too young to have lived through the devastation of the omnics, but he’d heard things. Reinhardt never spoke on it, but Torbjörn had no shortage of hatred. He always had a haunted look in his eye after he finished telling a story about the omnic wars. Ahote knew that an omnium starting back up was likely a bad thing.

“Oh,” Lehana finally said. “That, uh, could be bad.”

Genji nodded. “Yes,” he agreed. “It is important for us to discover exactly what they plan to do once the omnium is online.”

“That’s why you all are going to Hanamura,” Winston said. He pressed on the console, and another hologram popped up--one of the Shimada compound, Ahote assumed. It was quite large. Ahote imagined it’d be well-guarded.

“When you get there,” Winston said, “four of you will wait outside, as backup or a distraction; whatever need arises. The other two will be sneaking inside,” he pressed down on the console again, and the hologram zoomed in to a specific corner of the main house, “to access the console in this room. You’ll upload whatever pertinent information is on it to this USB,” he held up a USB stick, “and get out without being seen. After that, you’ll transmit the information to me at the safehouse, so I can help analyze it with Athena’s help.”

“Sounds easy enough,” McCree drawled. “Any preferences on who goes in?”

“You all can figure that out on the way there,” Winston said. “Are there any questions? That’s all I had to tell you, really--Athena emailed each of you the specifics on the compound.”

“We’re looking for information on _just_ the omnium?” Lúcio asked. “A console like that probably has a lot of other information.”

Winston nodded. “Just the omnium,” he confirmed. “If you can afford to be thorough, though, any information on omnics in general could be helpful.”

“We’ll try, but we’re not miracle workers,” McCree replied.

“I trust you all to do your best,” Winston said.

“Do we get to keep the airship this time?” Lehana asked.

“No,” Winston replied. “We’re still technically an illegal organization; the last thing we need is a giant jet advertising our activities. You’ll land outside Tokyo, and Athena will autopilot the ship back here. There’s a car in the main storage bay of the ship.”

Lehana sighed, slouching back in her seat. “Damn,” she muttered.

“Who’s in charge?” McCree asked. “Last time you didn’t specify--”

“Yes, I remember the last time,” Winston interrupted. “Genji is in charge.”

“Prolly a good call,” McCree said with a nod.

“If that’s all,” Winston said, “the airship is waiting in the hangar, warmed up and ready to go. Radio me when you get to the safehouse.”

When everyone nodded and stood, Ahote followed suit. Lúcio said as they began walking to the door, “See you soon, boss!”

“Stop calling me that,” Winston managed to say before the door closed behind the group.

Ahote walked near the front of the group--as far as politely possible from Nico, who was chatting to McCree and Lehana in the back. Ahote was lost in his thoughts, chewing over the recording they’d heard.

“Your first mission!” Lúcio laughed and clapped Ahote on the back of the shoulder, jarring him from his thoughts. Ahote rubbed his shoulder where Lúcio touched him as Lúcio asked, “Are you excited?”

Ahote glanced at him and shrugged. “I guess,” he said. As he looked forward again, he continued quietly, “...A lot is coming back.”

“What do you mean?” Lúcio asked, furrowing his brow.

Ahote hesitated before he answered. “The feeling before you fly out to a mission,” he said. “That...little bit of trepidation, because you don’t know if it’ll go according to plan. The hope that it does, and the fear for if it doesn’t.”

Lúcio gave Ahote a reassuring grin. “It’ll be fine, Ahote,” he said. “You’ve got a good team with you, you know?”

Ahote nodded, returning Lúcio’s grin with a small smile of his own.

“Besides,” Lúcio continued, “Winston probably doesn’t think this will be a very intense mission, since he’s got two new people on the team.”

“Right,” Ahote said, glancing back at Nico. He tensed up as he remembered he may have to trust his life to the slick Italian.

“Still don’t trust him?” Lúcio asked quietly as he caught Ahote’s glance.

“Not a bit,” Ahote replied.

“He isn’t that bad once you get to know him,” Lúcio carefully said. “I know you think he’s hiding something--”

“He _is_.”

“--But isn’t everyone?” Lúcio finished, giving Ahote a meaningful glance.

Ahote opened his mouth to argue, but as he thought about himself, he closed it again. He certainly didn’t share everything with everyone. He could only hope that Nicola’s secrets were as harmless as his own, though.

Lúcio sighed. “Look, I’m not saying be best friends with the guy,” he said, “but doing something other than avoiding and glaring at him will help you trust him in the field more.”

It was at that point that they reached the hangar, and the airship. They all quickly boarded it, and soon, Genji was flying them to Tokyo.

* * *

The flight took sixteen hours. The others slept most of the way, but Ahote stayed in the cockpit with Genji, reading and keeping the cyborg company--even if he’d been silent for most of the trip. Near the tail end of the flight, the others had crowded in the cockpit to discuss who would go into the compound to get the information.

Lúcio had said blankly that he wasn’t a recon sort of guy. Lehana had quickly said she was in the same situation, and McCree had confessed he’d forgotten to pack his “sneaking sarape.” Ahote hadn’t asked what that meant. Nicola had offered to go, then said, “Though when it comes to missions, I prefer not being so...hands-on.”

Ahote had volunteered then, no strings attached; sneaking in had been his specialty in Talon. Genji had offered to go as well, since he’d know the compound the best out of the group.

By the time they were all packed into a van with Genji at the wheel, the others had agreed to let Ahote and Genji go into the compound. The drive was relatively calm, particularly because Genji was at the wheel. It was about seven in the morning (though Ahote felt like it was midnight--he hated time zones), and the sun shined softly over the landscape, the early morning fog beginning to dissipate.

Nicola was seated in the passenger’s seat, next to Genji. Behind Nicola was McCree, who sat next to Lehana. Ahote sat all the way in the back with Lúcio--though he felt a lot more comfortable than the last car ride they’d been on together, as there wasn’t a third person squished in the back with them.

They hit some mild traffic in the city. The only person that really seemed to mind was Lehana, who insisted, “Genji, you’re driving too passively. Take some initiative!”

“Genji’s drivin’ is jus’ fine, Rookie,” McCree replied. “Jus’ ‘cause he ain’t gettin’ in a race at every chance--”

“Hey, I don’t do that!” Lehana argued. “I’m just sayin’, he’s not being aggressive enough!”

“We’re tryin’ _not_ to get noticed,” McCree drawled. “If he drives _your_ way, we’ll get arrested quicker’n a snake can bite’cha.”

“You’re gonna _wish_ a snake bit you when I’m through with you, Jess!” Lehana said, lunging across the aisle to McCree.

“No fighting in the car, please,” Genji said tersely, both hands on the wheel.

“Listen ta the driver!” McCree shouted, holding back Lehana with an arm. “Sit back down!”

“Does somebody wanna pass me the aux cord?” Lúcio asked, leaning forward a little. “I can get them to calm down.”

“I’m calm,” Lehana said, sitting back in her seat. She reached up to fix her hair. “I am ice cold.”

“I wanna switch seats,” McCree grumbled, shifting in his own chair. “You attached to that seat, Nico?”

“Unfortunately, yes,” Nicola replied, shooting McCree a grin over his shoulder. “The peace and quiet up here is divine.”

“We’re here,” Genji said, as the van came to a stop. He sounded relieved, Ahote thought as he climbed out of the vehicle.

Ahote looked up at the “safehouse,” pressing his lips into a thin line. “This is a hotel,” he said to the person next to him--Lehana.

“What?” Lehana asked. “You thought we actually had houses Overwatch paid for with its own money around the world?” She snorted, walking over to the trunk and opening it up. “We did back in the day, but that was before we had to pay for shit out of pocket.” She pulled her suitcase out from the trunk before she walked towards the front doors of the hotel.

“Besides,” Genji said as he stepped past Ahote, “Now you look like tourists, instead of troublemakers.” He had his hood up to hide the scarring on his face from the random passersby. He pulled his suitcase out before he dropped the car keys into Ahote’s hand. “Lock up, yeah?” he asked as he followed after Lehana.  

Ahote looked back up at the tall building. It was mostly made of glass, though most of the curtains were drawn. The sun reflected on its surface brightly, and Ahote grimaced. If somebody found them, they wouldn’t be able to rely on the hotel for defense. He hoped that wouldn’t be necessary.

“Comin’, Ahote?” Lúcio asked, bringing Ahote out of his thoughts.

Ahote looked down at Lúcio, who was standing with his suitcase, halfway between the van and the doors. Ahote nodded before quickly grabbing his own suitcase. He closed the trunk, then locked the doors and followed Lúcio inside.

The hotel was far from prestigious. It was nice, Ahote supposed, though when he stepped into the room he’d be sharing with Lúcio and Genji, he noticed no less than four stains on the green carpet, several handprints of varying heights on the glass door that led to the small balcony, and some wrappers in the corner behind the garbage can. After a shower, Genji reported that hot water didn’t seem to exist in that hotel.

“At least we’re only gonna be here for a few days,” Lúcio said as he sat on one of the two beds, a leg folded under him. “So, who’s sharing with who?” he asked, glancing back at the other bed.

“I can take the couch,” Ahote replied, shooting a glance at the dingy yellow couch next to the television. “No sharing necessary.”

“C’mon, man, that’ll mess up your back,” Lúcio replied. “You’re on the alpha team here--you should be in top shape.”

“Thanks, but I’ll be fine,” Ahote said. “I don’t sleep all that much, anyway. You’d just be wasting a bed on me.”

“Let’s discuss this after we contact Winston,” Genji suggested, stepping in from the balcony. “The others are coming over.”

There was a rapid knock on the door. Ahote glanced back at it, then, as he was the closest to it, stepped over to open it.

“Howdy, neighbor,” McCree greeted, grinning and tipping his hat at Ahote. “Fancy seein’ you here.”

“McCree,” Ahote said with a nod, stepping aside to let the cowboy in. Lehana filed in after him, and Nico after her. Ahote closed the door after Nico before he walked back to the main area.

Genji and McCree sat together on the couch. Lehana was sitting with her legs criss-crossed on the bed next to Lúcio, while Nico sat on the corner of the other bed. Ahote leaned against the wall in the entrance to the hallway, his arms crossed.

Genji pulled out a phone. He stood up, pointing it at the television, and tapped on it until the light of the television transformed into the Overwatch logo. It stagnated for a moment, until Winston’s face appeared in a dark room.

“Good,” the gorilla breathed. “You made it.”

“Did you doubt my flying skills?” Genji asked, a smile in his voice.

“No,” Winston replied. “It’s just a relief the UN hasn’t caught us yet.”

“Don’t jinx it,” Lehana said.

“Down to business,” Winston said. “I would suggest taking a day to scout out the compound, if you can; do they do tours?”

“No,” Genji said, though he sounded amused at the idea.

“Then you’ll have to do that the hard way,” Winston said. “Don’t sneak in until nighttime, of course. Don’t get caught. Stay safe.”

“C’mon, Winston, we know the drill,” Lúcio said. “We’ll be fine.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Winston grumbled. “Thanks for calling. It’s one in the morning, though, so I’m gonna go to bed.”

“Of course,” Genji said with a nod. “Sleep well, Winston.”

“You too, all of you,” Winston said before the screen went black.

“Can we sleep now?” Lehana asked, stretching her arms. “I’m _beat_.”

“You slept enough, Rookie,” McCree drawled. “It’s business time now.”

“What?” Lehana whined. “But it’s one in the morning! Didn’t you hear Winston?”

“Not for us, it ain’t,” McCree said, motioning to the sunlight filtering in through the curtains covering the window. “Best kick off that jetlag soon as we can.”

“Jesse is right,” Genji said. “We should be productive today. Some of us should go scout the compound, see what kind of security they have.”

“Then the rest of us can nap, right?” Lehana said, hopeful.

Genji hummed in thought, then said, “Two people can stay, to watch each room. The rest of us will go scout.”

Lehana tried to argue her case, but Genji settled on letting McCree and Lúcio stay behind. Ahote didn’t like the idea of leaving either of them in a room alone, before they’d had a chance to scout the area. He refrained from arguing as they filed from the room, though; he knew Lúcio could take care of himself, at least.

Luckily, the scouting mission didn’t take very long. Genji insisted they keep their distance from the compound, just in case somebody took note of them poking around. Ahote saw some large, wooden double-doors, with dragons carved into them. They couldn’t scale the walls to see past, since there were pedestrians nearby, but Ahote assumed there would be guards everywhere in the compound. They resolved to being extra careful and checking again at night before they made their way back.

On the way, Genji suggested they stop and get some food; he was starving. The others seemed to share the sentiment, and they stopped at a ramen place. Ahote stood outside, his arms crossed, as he peered up and down the street, on the lookout for any suspicious figures.

He didn’t spot anyone out of the ordinary, though when Genji emerged from the shop, bags in hands, he blinked at Ahote and asked if he didn’t want any for himself. Ahote shrugged and said he was fine. Genji stared at him for a moment and asked if he was _sure_ , and Ahote nodded and reassured him that yes, he was sure.

Genji dropped it--though Ahote had the suspicion it was only because the rest of the team streamed out of the small store then.

When Genji and Ahote made it back to their room, Ahote was relieved to see that Lúcio had had a mostly uneventful time.

“Alright!” Lúcio said once he spotted them, standing up from the bed he’d been reclining against. He already looked right at home, Ahote noted, with socks and sweatpants on. “You’re back!” Lúcio continued, a grin on his face.

“And with food,” Genji said, setting the bag on the kitchen counter.

“Hey, thanks, Genji!” Lúcio replied, stepping forward to rifle through the bag. “How much do I--?”

Genji lifted his hands. “On me,” he said. “As compensation for sitting in a room alone for a few hours.”

Lúcio snorted. “It’s no trouble,” he said. “Let me pay you back.”

As they argued good-naturedly over whether or not Lúcio could pay Genji back, Ahote grabbed a book from his suitcase and stepped out onto the balcony. He shut the sliding glass door behind him, though he left it open an inch--just in case. He sat on one of the patio chairs; there were three, with a table between them. Ahote hadn’t seen them with the curtain in the main room, so he knew he’d have at least a little bit of solitude.

Ahote set his book on the table, taking a moment to enjoy the fresh air. It was a little different than the air at the Watchpoint, but still similar; it still had the soft tang of salt on the back of it, though it was a little more acrid and industrialized.

Ahote opened his book then, and began to read. He almost hadn’t brought it; he’d assumed he wouldn’t have any time to read. His missions with Talon had rarely been so languid, if at all. He was glad to have time to himself.

It was a new book, recommended to him by Mei--a collection of poems by some author Ahote could never remember the name of. He found the poems interesting, though; thought-provoking, if nothing else.

His musings were interrupted when the door slid open. He looked up, his eyes landing on Lúcio, who was struggling to balance two mugs with chopsticks sticking out of them.

“Little help?” he asked once he was outside.

Ahote nodded, standing up to close the door behind Lúcio and silently take a mug from his hands.

“Thanks,” Lúcio said as he breezed into a seat. Ahote sat in his own seat, setting down the mug he’d grabbed in front of Lúcio.

“That one’s yours,” Lúcio said, pushing the mug back towards Ahote.

“Me?” Ahote asked, frowning and looking up at Lúcio. “Why?”

“Genji told me you didn’t grab anything to eat,” Lúcio replied, crossing his arms as he watched Ahote with a disapproving frown. “Both here and on the airship.”

Ahote nodded, and ducked his head as he felt an embarrassed blush color his cheeks.

“Look,” Lúcio said, “Ahote, man, you have to eat. You’re making me worried for if I’m ever not on a mission with you.”

“I know,” Ahote said.

“I’m starting to get the feeling you _don’t_ know,” Lúcio said.

Ahote fidgeted in his lap. “I just...don’t eat a lot, when I’m nervous,” he said as he shrugged a shoulder. “Which happens a lot at new places.”

Lúcio was silent for a moment before he said, “You were like this when you first got to base.” At Ahote’s nod, he continued, “Alright, I get that, but...you still have to eat. You’re not helping anyone by not eating, man.”

“I know,” Ahote said. “But it’s...not that simple. I just don’t feel hungry. How do I fix that?”

Lúcio replied, “You won’t fix it overnight. It’ll take time, just like anything. Rule of thumb? Don’t skip sixteen hours without eating anything.”

Ahote could hear the frown in Lúcio’s voice. “Right,” he breathed. “Sixteen hours.” He hesitated before looking up at Lúcio again. The cups of steaming ramen sat between them, untouched so far. “...Thanks,” he said.

Lúcio snorted. “Thanks?” he asked. “For what? All I’m doing is scolding you for not taking care of yourself.”

“For caring,” Ahote said. “Nobody’s--uh,” he stopped and shook his head. “I’m...not used to it.”

“Well, ‘course I care,” Lúcio said, leaning back in his seat as he grabbed his own mug. “You’re my friend. And I get frustrated when I see you neglecting yourself, so stop doing that. Prioritize your well-being a little higher, man. I don’t wanna see you passed out in a hallway again.”

Ahote nodded, leaning back in his own seat. “I hear you,” he said.

“Good,” Lúcio replied.

Ahote hesitantly grabbed his own mug then, peering into it. Golden broth and noodles gleamed back up at him, steaming peacefully. He had some trouble working the chopsticks, but it wasn’t rocket science.

He and Lúcio ate silently for a few moments, until Lúcio asked quietly, “So...wanna tell me about your prosthetics now?”

Ahote paused, glancing up at Lúcio over the rim of his cup. Lúcio had his gaze trained on him, though he was likely trying not to seem too interested. “It’s not a funny story,” Ahote warned. “Or pretty.”

“You don’t have to tell me if it’s too painful,” Lúcio said, turning back to his noodles. “I just don’t know anything about you, other than you hate eating and talking, especially about yourself. Oh, and you like reading.”

“That’s not enough?” Ahote asked, looking back into his cup, which was almost empty.

“Like I said,” Lúcio replied, “I won’t force you to tell me.”

Ahote stared at the remaining broth for a moment, thinking. It _wasn’t_ a pretty story; the last thing he wanted to do was use it for small talk. But...this wasn’t small talk, Ahote guessed. Lúcio had earned the right to hear this story, at least--it was far from the most painful.

Ahote drank the broth in his cup before he set the mug down on the table. He brought his feet up to rest on his seat, and set his forearms on his knees. He stared at his hands as he started, “I was...about seventeen. The arm and the leg happened at the same time.”

He didn’t miss Lúcio’s surprised look out of the corner of his eye as he continued, “I’d just finished training, and they’d decided that I was ready for my first mission. They sent me with a few other agents--to make sure I finished the job, I guess. It was a straightforward enough assignment; we had to destroy an Overwatch...I think it was a safehouse. Not a hotel--one they’d built for themselves.”

Ahote frowned, leaning his head back and staring at the sky as he lost himself in the memories. “It was mostly empty. There’d been a few agents--just blanket security, really. We took them out easy enough. Then we planted the explosives, and...that was it.

“But someone--I don’t know who--set the timer wrong, I guess, and the bombs went off before I got out. The building came down on top of me; I was knocked out, and when I woke up, my arm and leg were pinned under some debris--” Ahote stopped, grimacing as he remembered the pain. He rubbed at his left shoulder, where his prosthetic met his body. He could still see the building, if he focused hard enough--around him and on fire, filling his lungs with smoke.

“They got me out intact,” he continued after a moment. “But when we got back to HQ...I guess they saw a chance to capitalize.” Ahote frowned, his voice becoming steely as he said, “A chance to mark me as _theirs._ I was in the med room, recovering; they put me under, and when I woke up….” He motioned to his metallic arm. “That was there.”

Lúcio was silent, and when Ahote looked at him, he saw that Lúcio had put down his mug, and was staring at Ahote. “Wow,” Lúcio breathed once he realized Ahote was done. “Uh. That sounds...intense.”

“Told you it isn’t as good as Torbjörn’s,” Ahote reminded him, a grin teasing at the edge of his lips.

Lúcio shook his head and said, “It’s not a competition.” He gave Ahote a smile as he said, “But...I appreciate you telling me. Thanks.”

Ahote shrug a shoulder, dropping his feet back to the ground. “No problem,” he replied, shifting a little in his seat. “Don’t...tell anyone.”

“My lips?” Lúcio asked, then pantomimed locking his mouth and throwing away the key. “Sealed.”

Ahote huffed a laugh. “Thanks.”

Lúcio stood up, grabbing the mugs, which let out a small _clink!_ as they met. “I’ll let you read again,” he said. “Genji’s probably bored to death. Have fun.”

Ahote gave Lúcio a nod and a grin as he replied, “Thanks, Lúcio.”

Lúcio smiled at him in return before he opened the door, stepped inside, and slid it shut behind him.

Ahote felt a little lighter. He wasn’t sure why, but he couldn’t erase the gentle smile from his face as he opened his book again, losing himself in the words.


	8. Mission

Ahote crouched down on the flat roof, squinting through the branches of the tree in front of him at the security guards patrolling down under. A lizard scurried across his foot; he only glanced down at it, otherwise unmoving as a gargoyle. Genji was crouched next to him, his lights off, so he appeared as statuesque as Ahote.

It was the second night since they’d arrived in Tokyo. They’d scouted out the security scene the previous night--it had been tight, but nothing insane, from what Ahote could tell. They’d been very brief, though, and had only scratched the surface; that night, they were going all the way.

“Ready?” Genji whispered, his head tilting toward Ahote a moment.

Ahote nodded, still watching the closest guard. “Avoid the guards,” he murmured back, trying hard to not let his voice carry on the gentle breeze. “Meet back up in the main building.” Ahote glanced up at the building in question; the gardens outside were awash with moonlight, and serene, save for the patrolling security.

Genji nodded. “Good luck,” he mumbled to Ahote, before he disappeared in a puff of smoke.

Ahote shook his head at the theatrics before he moved. He jumped up and pulled himself onto the roof of the next building over, then ran, crouched, around the edge of the roof. He was close to the first inner wall; he jumped across a small gap and into another building. He stepped slowly down the wooden hall, crouched and silent, glancing about before he peeked his head out the end of the hall, which had no wall.

Ahote grimaced when he saw a long fall to the city below--why did they live on a mountain?--before he shook his head, looking forward at the next building over. He backed up a few steps; it was an open floor, so he’d be able to jump in, but the gap might’ve been too large. Ahote ran up to the edge of the hallway before he jumped across the gap, landing with a thud on the wooden floor of the next building.

He froze, glancing around uneasily. He was close to the main building now--only a short sprint, and he’d be able to run in through the front archway. He knew that was a bad idea, though; he trained his gaze instead on another window, above and to the left of the arch.

A shadow moving in the corner of his eye caught his attention, and he looked over at the other window as a dark figure clambered up the wall and slipped inside the main building. Ahote supposed he was slacking--or Genji was just incredibly fast.

He pushed himself to his feet, gaze sweeping across the garden from his vantage point. It seemed white in the moonlight, and Ahote could only see one guard, patrolling on the far side of the garden.

Ahote didn’t waste any time; he leaped from the building he was in, landing softly among the grass. He quickly sprinted over to the wall before he pushed himself up on the rocks, reaching the window without any fuss; he wasn’t as quick as Genji had been, but he was still faster than the average Joe as he pulled himself up.

Before Ahote could push himself to his feet inside the window, he felt something land hard on his back. He let out a cough as something pushed itself under his throat, holding his head in an uncomfortably high position. Ahote glanced down and to the side, taking note that it was a metallic and blue bow--likely used for more than just archery, based on its beefy design.

“Anata wa dare?!” an angry voice hissed in Ahote’s ear. The man’s knee--Ahote guessed it was metallic based on how hard it was--pressed firmly in Ahote’s back, rendering him immobile.

Ahote grit his teeth--he wasn’t about to get caught on his very first mission with Overwatch. He wriggled until his robotic arm wasn’t trapped under him, then pointed his palm up at the villain on his back. A short beam of energy fired out of his palm--not enough to maim, just to distract. It worked, as Ahote felt the man’s grip on his bow slacken. Ahote pushed down the bow with all his might, wrenching it out of the man’s hands; in the same motion, he turned on his back and kicked the man away.

The archer stumbled back as Ahote shot to his feet, gripping his bow tightly. Once Ahote was on his feet, he sized up the archer--a little taller than Ahote, and with mostly-black hair that was the color of stormclouds around his temples. Even without a weapon, he stood tall, his shoulders back and his hands clenched into fists as he peered with dark, narrowed eyes at Ahote.

“Who are you?” Ahote hissed to the man. Ahote’s knuckles were white as he held onto the bow.

The archer opened his mouth to respond, but he froze as a guard asked from the floor under them, “Kiita?”

Ahote froze as well, turning to look down at the open floor. He could see the heads of two guards on the bridge from the entryway, beginning to peer around. Ahote looked up at the archer, who looked at him, before they both glanced at the doorway behind the archer.

They stared at each other for another moment before Ahote sprinted silently towards the door, the archer following suit. They rounded the corner and pressed against the wall, Ahote closer to the door than the archer.

They were in another open-air floor, from what Ahote could see; there was a roof above them, and stairs leading down to a doorway that Ahote guessed led back to the main room.

“Gaijin,” the archer groaned quietly.

Ahote turned to confront the man again, but before he was fully focused, the archer snatched his bow from Ahote’s hands. The man nocked an arrow, aiming it at Ahote’s face, as he hissed clearly, “Who are you? What are you doing here?”

Ahote glanced at the doorway down the stairs. “You’re an intruder, too,” he claimed quietly. “You tell me, first.”

The man sneered. “Answer me,” he said. “Or I will let this arrow fly.”

Ahote stared at the archer a moment, unwavering, but before he could reply, he heard Genji ask in the comm in his ear, “Ahote?”

Ahote looked to the side, holding a hand up to press a button on the comm as he said, “Here, Genji.” He glanced up at the archer as he answered, who lowered his arrow significantly, his brow furrowed as he watched Ahote.

“Where are you?” Genji whispered. “I am at the console.”

Ahote hesitated before he confessed, “Someone spotted me.”

“A guard?” Genji asked sharply.

“No,” Ahote said, shaking his head slightly as he glanced at the archer again. “Another intruder. Some...archer. Japanese.”

Genji was silent for a long moment. Fearing his comm had gone offline, Ahote asked, “Genji?”

“Here,” Genji replied. “Bring him here. He will not tip the guards off.”

Ahote blinked, surprised. “What?” he asked. “Genji, how do you know we can--”

“It is better than arguing in the hallway of Shimada Castle,” Genji replied quietly. “Bring him here.”

“Genji, how do you know him?” Ahote asked, staring down at his feet. Genji didn’t reply. “Genji?” Ahote tried again. When Genji didn’t respond again, Ahote shook his head, looking back up at the archer, who had a strange smirk on his face.

“What?” Ahote asked, narrowing his eyes.

The archer shrugged a shoulder. He still had an arrow nocked, though his hands were much more relaxed, and he wasn’t aiming at Ahote’s face anymore.

Ahote frowned at the archer, before he said, “He wants me to bring you to our target. We don’t want to tip the guards off so they find the other party, right?”

The archer lost his smirk, letting out an unamused _hmm_. “You underestimate my capabilities,” he said, “but very we--”

The archer was interrupted as someone behind him shouted, “Kisama!” The archer frowned and looked over his shoulder, not hesitating before he let loose his arrow, shooting it through the man’s shoulder.

“We must go,” the archer said, turning back to Ahote. “Now. He will have contacted the other guards.”

Ahote frowned, mind racing. “They’ll be on high-alert,” he said. “They’ll probably go to where we’re headed to guard the room--”

“What room?” the archer asked quickly, glancing over his shoulder anxiously.

“It has a console in it,” Ahote answered. “Important information--”

The archer sighed and murmured something under his breath that Ahote guessed was a curse. “That is the first room they will lock down,” he said.

Ahote grimaced, pressing a hand up to his comm as he said, “Genji, we tripped a guard.”

“I am aware,” Genji replied, his voice strained--as if he was fighting already. “How is Team B?”

“Awful,” McCree drawled into the comm. “Rookie keeps beatin’ me!”

“It’s karma for thinking I’m lying every round!” Lehana answered hotly.

“I’ll call your bullshit right _one_ o’ these turns,” McCree replied.

“It’s Go Fish,” Nicola said, obviously fatigued from the bickering.

“Guys, I think they need our help,” Lúcio said nervously.

“Thank you, Lúcio,” Genji replied. “We will need a distraction to get out. If you could make some noise at the entrance--”

“We’re not getting the intel?” Ahote asked, furrowing his brow.

“No,” Genji replied. “It is too dangerous. Make your way out, and--”

“We have to get that intel,” Ahote insisted. “If we don’t, what did we come here for? They’ll tighten security after tonight. It’s now or never.”

As Genji continued to try and convince Ahote to leave, Ahote looked up at the archer. He seemed to understand, and nodded before turning on a heel and sprinting off. Ahote followed close behind as the team continued to chatter over the comms.

“Hey, Genji, just wonderin’,” McCree said, “how lethal d’you want this distraction t’be?”

“Not lethal at all,” Genji replied. “Ahote, have you made it back to--?”

“No,” Ahote replied. “We’re working our way to the console.”

“I told you to go back to the entrance,” Genji said tersely.

“We need this intel,” Ahote said. “It can’t wait, Genji.”

Genji was silent for a moment before he answered, “We will discuss this later. I will wait at the console and guard it while you make your way here.”

Ahote was glad for the archer; he seemed to know exactly where he was in the huge mansion. Ahote didn’t feel right trusting him so easily, but he was sure the archer would’ve killed him already if that was his intention. They didn’t come across any guards, though--Ahote wondered how long the archer had been staking the place, to know it well enough to understand the guard routines.

Once they reached a certain hallway, though, they saw several guards, nursing bleeding wounds on their arms and legs. Some of them tried to block Ahote and the archer’s way, but they were easily dispatched.

They stepped into the room Genji was in as he pushed another guard out of the room. He had blood smeared across some of his suit, and he seemed to freeze when his gaze landed on the archer.

“Genji,” the archer greeted, nodding his head.

“Hanzo,” Genji returned, nodding his head as well. Ahote blinked at the name, but didn’t focus on it as Genji continued, “Have you given any thought to what I said our last meeting?”

“Now is not the time for small talk,” Hanzo replied. “What are you here for?”

“Information on the omnium,” Genji said. “They plan to turn it back on. We want to know why.”

Hanzo snorted. “Small world,” he grumbled. “I am here for the same reason.”

“Then it seems we are allies,” Genji said.

“For now,” Hanzo responded tersely. He grabbed his bow from his back as he said, “Go get the information from the console.”

“Already bossing me around?” Genji asked. Ahote couldn’t decide if he was joking or challenging.

“Go,” Hanzo said sternly. “We can argue when we are not in the heat of battle.”

Genji didn’t argue before he strode back into the room. Hanzo closed the door after him before he turned to Ahote, looking down at him.

“Watch that end of the hallway,” he said, nodding to the hall behind Ahote. “I will watch this end.”

Ahote narrowed his eyes at Hanzo, but the archer didn’t wait for a response before turning around and grabbing an arrow from his quiver.

Ahote turned around as well, though he didn’t trust Hanzo--particularly from the things he’d heard. He reminded himself that he hadn’t been shot at thus far. Besides that, Genji seemed to trust him--he had the right to be the most distrustful of Hanzo. If Genji had allowed Hanzo to help them, Ahote supposed he should afford Hanzo the same courtesy.

Security agents still tried to make their way to the room, even as Ahote and Hanzo stood guard. With his shield up, Ahote didn’t have much trouble with the guns the guards used. When they ran out of bullets, they charged him, which let him dispatch them easily during a brief brawl. Whenever he glanced at Hanzo over his shoulder, he saw the archer picking off agents trying to zig-zag down the hall towards him, shooting them in their legs so they would crumple to the ground.

After a few minutes, the agents seemed to grow smarter; Ahote noted more running down his hallway, and his shield constantly seemed to be on low energy. He assumed they decided his hallway was the lesser of two evils. As he kept his shield down to re-energize, he heard bullets fly past him, dangerously close to nicking an ear. They were answered by arrows whizzing past his head, down the hallway.

Ahote glanced over his shoulder at Hanzo as he finished knocking out the agent in front of him. The archer let another arrow fly past Ahote, aimed for another agent. He reached up to grab another from his quiver, then scowled once he realized it was empty.

“I am out of arrows,” Hanzo informed, turning back to face his hallway again. He held his bow like a sword, and bounced from foot to foot.

“Great,” Ahote growled as he pulled an agent’s head into his knee, hearing it give a sickening crack. At a lull in the agents, he reached up to press a finger to his comm and ask, “Genji?”

“Halfway done,” Genji replied.

“Hanzo’s out of arrows,” Ahote said, crouching down as he saw an agent poke his head around the corner, at the end of the hall.

“I am going as fast as I can,” Genji said.

Ahote didn’t respond as another agent ran up to him--an omnic with a distinctly demonic face, and horns popping out of their head. Ahote spread his feet, ready for the omnic to throw a punch.

What he wasn’t expecting was for them to pull a sword out of nowhere, or to slash at Ahote with it. Ahote moved back to avoid the blade, but not before it sliced the right side of his stomach.

Ahote grimaced at the stinging pain, but he didn’t have time to ruminate on it. When the omnic came at him with the sword again, this time swinging downwards, Ahote grabbed their wrist with one hand as he turned his body to strain the omnic’s arm. As their arm was immobilized, Ahote reached over his shoulder to shoot a bolt of electricity out at them from his robotic hand, and they fell to the ground, sparking and twitching.

Ahote turned to face the rest of his hallway again, pressing a hand against the slice in his stomach with a grimace. It wasn’t life-threatening, and he knew he’d be able to bear it, but he wouldn’t be able to fight for much longer; he was already flagging.

“Y’all almost done?” McCree asked over the comms. “We’ve got a _lotta_ company out here.”

“Almost,” Genji replied, as a new agent ran up to Ahote. “I just need a few--”

Ahote nearly stumbled over the agent as he heard a loud boom come from the front of the compound. The agent seemed more distracted than Ahote, however, who was able to send him spinning to the ground with one punch.

“What the devil was that?!” McCree shouted.

“Just Ol’ Razer!” Lehana chirped back. “You’re welcome!”

“You started a fire,” Nicola noted. “You exploded your board and started a fire.”

“Welcome to the team!” Lúcio said. He sounded out of breath, but otherwise fine--Ahote tried not to breathe a sigh of relief. “Ro does that _a lot_.”

“It helps!” Lehana argued. “If I hadn’t done that, we would’ve been overrun! Genji, we need to _go_.”

“Alright,” Genji said, and the door behind Ahote opened as Genji stepped through it. “We are leaving now.”

Genji jogged through the compound, Ahote and Hanzo on his tail. “How much did you get?” Ahote asked, in an attempt to ignore the pain flaring up in his side.

“A little,” Genji said. “Not as much as Winston would have liked, but I do not think we can stay any longer.”

They ran out the front door; their presence was already well-known, so it wouldn’t hurt. Once they reached the first garden, next to the main entrance to the compound, Ahote frowned at the battlefield.

Most of the white stones were singed black, and there was a blazing fire in the building Ahote and Genji had been standing on about half an hour prior. McCree was standing in a second story, shooting down into the fray below. Nicola was running and leaping in the middle of the garden, dancing around the large rock in the center as he shot his two pistols at agents. Lehana was also wielding two pistols, though she seemed much less mobile; she kept ducking behind a wall. Ahote couldn’t see Lúcio for a moment, but he sighed when the DJ skated to a stop next to them, jumping down from a wall.

“Glad you could make it!” Lúcio said. “Let’s get out of here, huh?” His eyes landed on Hanzo. “Uh, who’s this?”

“Long story,” Ahote said. “Ally for now. We should get moving.”

Lúcio nodded, then reached up to press his headphone. “Party’s moving out, guys,” he said, skating alongside Ahote, Genji, and Hanzo as they jogged to the front gate. “Better move with it.”

As the others worked their way to the small group standing next to the front gate, Ahote said anxiously, “We should consider traveling around the city a bit--to throw them off, if they decide to follow us.”

“They will not follow us,” Hanzo replied. “They have orders to stay on the compound.”

“How does he know that?” Lúcio asked as Lehana and Nicola ran up.

“Glad to see we attracted some’a the family, too,” McCree grumbled unhappily as he jogged up to them, his spurs rattling on the wooden floor. He spun around to rapid-fire a clip of bullets at the nearest agent (not one hit its target). “We leavin’?” he asked as he refilled his pistol, the empty bullet shells dropping carelessly to the ground.

“Yes,” Genji replied.

Lúcio cranked the volume on his headset as they ran out of the front gate. Ahote felt adrenaline pumping through his veins in time with the beat of the song, making his feet pound against the pavement faster.

They reached the hotel in record time, after which they all piled into an elevator. Ahote was uncomfortable, squished between McCree, Hanzo, and the wall, and could feel the cut in his stomach with every inhale.

“Didja get it?” McCree asked over the gentle elevator music, glancing over at Genji.

“Yes,” Genji replied. “But it was foolish and dangerous.”

“We needed the information,” Hanzo replied. “We did what we had to.”

“That intel better make up for Ol’ Razer,” Lehana grumbled. “I hate doing that to him.”

“Perhaps you shouldn’t have detonated it,” Nicola replied.

“It was that or lose some limbs, probably,” Lehana replied, before she waved her robotic right arm in the air. “Not going through _that_ again, thanks!”

The doors opened with a soft _ding!_ , and everyone stepped out gratefully. Ahote pressed a hand to his side as they walked slowly down the hallway.

“I will contact Winston and get this information to him,” Genji said, sending a glance over his shoulder at the rest of the group. “You all should rest--you have earned it.”

“Yes,” Lehana groaned. “I can’t _wait_ to crawl into my soft bed….”

“Soft?” McCree snorted. “Thing’s firmer’n iron. Lemme swap sides with ya.”

“No way!” Lehana replied indignantly, as she, McCree, and Nicola stepped past the others and to their room. “I don’t need your old man funk in my dreams!”

“I’m four years older’n you,” McCree argued. “It ain’t--” Their argument was lost as the door shut behind them.

Ahote looked at Genji to see why he hadn’t opened the door to their own room yet, and saw him staring at Hanzo.

“Why are you still here?” Genji carefully asked.

“We have a common interest,” Hanzo replied, his arms crossed. “I was there for the same intel you gathered.”

“And why are you interested in this, Hanzo?” Genji asked. Ahote could hear the narrowed eyes in his voice. “I thought you were done with the Shimadas.”

Hanzo glanced down at Ahote and Lúcio before he trained his gaze on Genji. He lowered his voice as he said, "'Hou wo erabu' to iimashita. Ima, erabiteimasu." He added in English, “I will not let them destroy what remains of my home.”

Genji continued watching Hanzo for a moment before he turned back to the door, passing the key card over the lock and letting them in.

Ahote stepped into the room gratefully. His eyes felt heavy, and each step sent stitches through his side. Once he reached the kitchenette, he carefully peeled off his jacket, grimacing at the large red bloodstain blooming across the gray material, and at the sharp pain lancing through his side.

He twisted his torso a little to try and get a better view of the wound on his side, but it was difficult. The white T-shirt he wore was soaked with blood where the sword had cut him. He’d have to wash it, and--

“He was injured,” Hanzo said. Ahote whipped his head around to look at the archer, who nodded in his direction.

Before Ahote could properly respond, Lúcio dropped his gear in the hallway. “Why didn’t you say anything, Aho?” he asked, quickly making his way over. He brushed Ahote’s hands out of the way and leaned down to inspect the injury.

“It isn’t important,” Ahote said, watching Lúcio closely, trying not to lean away from his hands. “It’s just a scratch.”

“Just a scratch,” Lúcio muttered mockingly, before he straightened up. “Lay down,” he said, gently steering Ahote towards one of the beds. “I need to take care of this.”

“I’ll get blood on the bed,” Ahote warned in an attempt to stall. He didn’t want to get treated for a wound right in front of someone he’d just met.

“Forget the bed,” Lúcio replied, not missing a beat as he tried to push Ahote on the mattress. “Your health is more important.”

Ahote laid back on the bed, shooting an uneasy glance at Hanzo. He tried to relax, but once Lúcio pushed the edge of his shirt up a little to see the wound, he tensed up again.

“Calm down,” Lúcio muttered. Ahote couldn’t see his face, but his fingers were cool around the inflamed cut in his stomach. Lúcio straightened up with a shake of his head. “I’ll be right back,” he said. “Don’t move.”

In the few moments it took Lúcio to step around the room to grab some things, Ahote felt restless. He wasn’t used to sitting and letting someone else look at his wounds. Genji was speaking in hushed tones on the phone with someone--probably Winston, if Ahote had to guess.

When Lúcio returned, he was holding a bucket, a beige towel, a pair of earbuds, and his phone. Ahote lifted his brow at the bounty, unsure where to begin.

“Is that a hotel towel?” he decided on asking first.

“Yep,” Lúcio replied as he pulled up a chair and sat on it.

“I don’t think they account for bloodstains, Lúcio.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Lúcio replied, as he plugged the earbuds into his phone. “People steal ‘em all the time.”

“I don’t believe that,” Ahote said. He would’ve crossed his arms if he could’ve.

“I’ve seen it,” Lúcio said, before he pressed the earbuds into Ahote’s hand. “Listen to that.”

Ahote lifted a brow at the earbuds, then at Lúcio, who was dipping the towel in the bucket, which was full of water. “What is it?” Ahote asked.

“Something to help you relax,” Lúcio replied, looking up at Ahote again. “Trust me, man. You’re in good hands, I promise.”

Ahote watched Lúcio for a moment before he glanced at Hanzo again. The archer was standing stiffly in the corner, his arms crossed as he watched Genji pace and speak on the phone.

He didn’t want to relax around Hanzo. He knew he should’ve, but he didn’t trust the archer. Hanzo seemed stable enough at the moment--but he _did_ try to kill his own brother. Ahote wouldn’t put it past him to--

Ahote hissed in a breath and shifted as he felt his wound burn. He glanced down, and saw Lúcio dabbing at it with the wet towel.

“It wouldn’t hurt so bad if you put in the earbuds,” Lúcio tried to entice, glancing up at Ahote.

Ahote frowned before he jammed the buds in his ears. Instantly, a soothing song blocked out all the other noises, hooking Ahote’s attention on it. It wasn’t loud or heavy, but soft and subtle.

Ahote felt the notes playing under his skin, dancing between his muscles and relaxing them. His heart beat along with the slow bassline, and the melody weighed down on his eyelids, making them grow heavy.

Sleep was the only thing on Ahote’s mind after a moment. With a glance to Hanzo, he reminded himself why he shouldn’t, but...he trusted Genji, and he trusted Lúcio, particularly if anything went wrong.

Ahote’s eyes slipped shut, and stayed shut, as he allowed the song to seduce him to sleep, his wound mostly forgotten.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HUGE shout out to my good friend Alice, who provided the Japanese translations for this chapter!! She's a Great Person and can be found at ajliddy.tumblr.com!! (She's also got an OC to be introduced in this fic in the future, so ;) )


	9. Attack

When Ahote blinked his eyes open, the first thing he saw was muted sunlight, filtering in through the closed curtains and slashed over the ceiling. He was still in the bed Lúcio had led him to the previous night, though he didn’t have earbuds in anymore. He could still feel the dried blood on his shirt, though--he knew he would’ve woken up if someone had tried to remove _that_.

Ahote felt the bed dip a little on his right as somebody moved. He shot up to look at the intruder, instantly regretting it with a wince as his bandaged side stabbed pain through him. He gingerly rubbed at the injury before he looked to the other side of his bed.

Lúcio was sleeping peacefully, the covers drawn up to his shoulder. He was lying on his side, facing away from Ahote. The sun falling gently over his face made his cheeks look like burnished bronze.

Ahote quickly glanced away, heat rushing to his cheeks. He couldn’t shake the feeling that he’d invaded Lúcio’s privacy, somehow. His eyes landed on Hanzo, who was sleeping on the dingy yellow couch next to the television. His feet hung off the end, over the armrest, and he seemed cramped. Ahote couldn’t say he was glad to see the archer still with them.

Ahote glanced around the rest of the room, noting that Genji was nowhere to be seen--until he saw the silhouette of someone sitting in one of the balcony chairs. Ahote slowly stood up, watching Lúcio’s face closely to make sure he didn’t wake him up. Thankfully, Lúcio didn’t move as Ahote stood.

Ahote stepped over to his suitcase, grabbing a black T-shirt. He slowly changed into the shirt, careful not to jostle his side too much. It hurt to raise his arm too high. He was grateful they didn’t have any more combat planned. After he was changed, he bundled the bloody white shirt in a ball, staring at it as he considered, before he dropped it in the trash can in the kitchen.

Ahote picked up his gray jacket, which still resided on the counter. He grimaced at the bloodstain, and the slice in the side; he likely wouldn’t be able to use it until he fixed that. He shook his head, and folded the jacket before stowing it under his suitcase. He grabbed his shield from the sleeve of the jacket and placed it on top of the suitcase before he moved to the sliding glass door.

He slowly opened the door, glancing over his shoulder to make sure he didn’t wake Lúcio, before he stepped through and closed the door behind him.

Genji was sitting at a chair, his feet propped up on one of the seats. His helmet and mask were gone, revealing his hair and eyes. He had his _GOT HUMANITY?_ sweatshirt on, his hands stuffed in the large frontal pocket. He gave Ahote a distracted nod as Ahote approached, though he kept his gaze on the building across the street.

“Morning,” Ahote murmured as he sat in the seat Genji wasn’t occupying.

“Good morning,” Genji replied.

“What did Winston say?” Ahote asked. “About the intel.”

Genji shrugged a shoulder. “He said he would have Athena analyze it overnight,” he said, “and he would call when they finished. He has not called.”

Ahote nodded, silent for a moment, before he prodded, “I see Hanzo is still with us…?”

Genji nodded as well. “He has decided to stay,” he said. “At least while our interests align.”

“Are...you...okay with that?” Ahote asked slowly, unsure if it was the right move--but he figured a friend would ask.

“I am,” Genji replied. “I do not know if _he_ is, though. Guilt still burdens him.”

“I don’t think that’s something you can get over quickly,” Ahote said. “Not...without help, anyway. It took you a while, didn’t it? Even with Zenyatta.”

Genji nodded, a small sigh escaping his nose. “It did,” he said. “I was...lost. Zenyatta helped. Hanzo has not had that support. He is lost, as I was.”

“He doesn’t seem hopeless to me,” Ahote said. “At least--”

Ahote stopped as the glass door to the next balcony over slid open. He looked over his shoulder, and spotted McCree walking out, his red sarape thrown on over his pajamas. He had two steaming mugs in his hands, and he slid the door shut again with his hip.

When McCree’s gaze landed on Ahote, he blinked. “Oh,” he said. “Mornin’.” He glanced down at the mugs in his hands. “Sorry. I’da madeja some if I’d known you’d be up.” He extended one to Ahote, over the rails separating their balconies. “Pass that to Genji, wouldja?”

Ahote nodded and stood to carefully grab the mug before he placed it on the table in front of Genji. Genji nodded in thanks, not moving from his position.

“Y’feelin better?” McCree asked as he dragged a metal chair on his balcony closer to the rails and sat on it. At Ahote’s confused look, he explained, “Genji told us y’got hurt.”

Ahote nodded. “I’m fine, thanks,” he said. “Glad we’re going back to base soon, though.”

McCree chuckled before he took a sip from his mug. “Wouldn’t count on that,” he said.

“What do you mean?” Ahote asked. “We finished the mission, didn’t we?”

“The first part, sure,” McCree said. “But we prolly won’t get t’go back till we _really_ deal with that omnium business.”

Ahote resisted the urge to sigh as he looked at the next building across the street. “Of course,” he grumbled. He shouldn’t have expected differently.

Genji seemed to jump in the air when a phone rang. He brought his phone out of his pocket before tapping on it. “Winston?” he asked.

“Genji,” the gorilla’s voice yawned on the other side of the call.

“Have you analyzed the information yet?” Genji asked.

“Almost all of it,” Winston replied. “It doesn’t look good.”

“Tell us,” Genji said.

“Well,” Winston puffed, “for starters, the Shimadas were coordinating with a god program--I think its name is...Orochi?” Winston grumbled inaudibly to himself for a moment before he said, “Something about helping the god program and getting a monopoly on some businesses they dabble in. Uhh…. They plan to turn on the omnium permanently, to help this Orochi.”

Everyone was silent for a moment before McCree said, “Well, _shit_.” He took a long drink from his mug.

“Is that all?” Genji asked.

“All I could get from the information you got me. There’s something else, though--mostly unrelated,” Winston said.

“Please tell me it’s good news,” McCree requested.

“Sorry, Jesse,” Winston said. “It was your actions at the Shimada compound--it made international news. Some cameras caught you and Genji running out, so now the UN is...suspicious. There are rumors that Overwatch is operational again.”

“What does that mean?” Ahote asked anxiously, frowning at the implications already running through his head.

“That means,” Winston sighed, “that if we get caught, we could all be punished. Severely.” He let that sink in for a moment before he continued, “It also means that they’re sending a rep here to make sure that signal I sent a few months ago really was just an observational drone for the moon. We’re gonna have to lay low for a while. I have the others traveling to different parts of the world, to make it seem like this base isn’t in use.”

Ahote chewed on his lower lip. Neither of those pieces of news were good. If Winston was scattering the others, then they wouldn’t be able to get much help with the god program. They’d be on their own.

“Is _that_ it?” Genji sighed, reaching up to rub at his eyes.

“Yeah,” Winston replied. “I know you all would probably like to hide now, but that god program is still dangerous. If we don’t stop it, it could start another omnic uprising.”

“What do you suggest we do?” Ahote asked.

“For now, wait,” Winston said. “You can’t do much on your own. Stay low, stay hidden, stay discreet. I’ll contact you soon when I have more of a plan.”

“Thank you, Winston,” Genji replied.

“Keep us posted, big guy,” McCree said before Genji ended the call.

The trio sat in silence for a moment before McCree said, “Well, looks like we’re goin’ t’hell in a handbasket.”

Genji nodded, standing up. “We should tell the others.”

“Aw, c’mon now,” McCree complained, gaze trained on Genji. “Y’didn’t even touch yer coffee. Relax a little, Genji--they can wait five minutes.”

Genji looked torn as he frowned down at the coffee. Ahote thought that Genji should’ve told them as soon as possible--but he also thought it wasn’t his place to weigh in, so he stayed silent.

Genji sat down. “Alright,” he muttered. “You are right--there is likely nothing urgent happening now.”

They sat together for a few more minutes, McCree and Genji idly chatting. Genji mentioned some attractions they should check out while in the area, now that they had time--namely the arcade. McCree asked if they have a DDR machine, and when Genji said no, seemed to warm up to the idea.

When Genji finished his coffee, he stood up, handing the mug back over to McCree. “I will tell the others now,” Genji said. He nodded towards McCree’s door and asked, “Will you--?”

McCree nodded as he stood as well. “Y’can count on me,” he said, tipping an imaginary hat.

They filed back into their respective rooms, Ahote closing the door behind him and Genji. Lúcio was sitting up on his bed (Ahote tried to fight back the flush when he saw the bloodstain on the covers next to him), and Hanzo was up as well, tinkering with his bow.

“Morning, guys,” Lúcio greeted them with a grin. “I ordered room service--I hope you’re hungry.”

Genji nodded at Lúcio. “Good idea,” he praised. He waited a beat, then said, “Winston contacted me.”

“What did he say?” Hanzo demanded, shooting to his feet. Ahote crossed his arms in the corner next to the glass door, warily eying the archer.

“The Shimadas are working with a god program,” Genji said, “named Orochi. We do not know the details, but we must stop them.”

“Fools,” Hanzo sneered quietly. “Was that all he discovered?”

Genji nodded.

“That’s not all you have to tell us, though,” Lúcio said slowly, watching Genji closely.

Genji shook his head. “The attack we made last night,” he began. “It made international news.”

Lúcio nodded. “I saw.” He motioned to the quietly-playing television, which had a blurry image of all of them running out of the compound. The caption splayed across the screen read, _OVERWATCH--RETURNED?_

Genji sighed, shaking his head at the television screen. “Then you will understand why we must keep a low profile,” he said as he turned back to the others. “Winston is clearing out the watchpoint for now. He will think of a plan, and get back to us. Until then, we are not to cause any scenes.”

“We are...waiting,” Hanzo repeated. At Genji’s nod, he gave a displeased _hmm_.

“Problem, brother?” Genji asked, lifting an eyebrow at Hanzo.

“I would have expected a little more agency,” Hanzo said.

“There is nothing we can do,” Genji said. “God programs are dangerous, and cannot be underestimated.”

Hanzo’s response was interrupted by a knock at the door.

“That must be the food!” Lúcio said, hopping to his feet. “I’ll get it.”

Ahote wished he went with Lúcio as Genji and Hanzo stared at one another. The tension was palpable as Lúcio’s bright greeting echoed from the front door, and as the clinking dining cart made its way down the hall behind him.

Lúcio said something, but as Ahote’s eyes landed on the person pushing the dining car, he blocked everything out but her face.

She had thin lips and a pointed nose. Her eyes--calculating and hard--resembled two mossy stones in the bed of a river. Her brown hair was swept into a strict bun, and a pristine dress cascaded from her form.

Her eyes landed on him immediately, and a smile twisted her face. “Oh, Cheveyo!” she said. “I _thought_ I saw you in that silly news story!”

Out of the corner of his eye, Ahote could see Lúcio glancing with confusion between them, but the rage boiling under Ahote’s skin forced him to focus on Kronos.

The glass window behind Ahote and Hanzo shattered then, as a body slammed into Ahote, sending him careening into the bed. Ahote grit his teeth and growled, thrashing around in the person’s grip until he could slam a rage-filled punch against their jaw.

The person sprawled off of Ahote and onto the floor. Ahote stood up, his gaze locking back onto Kronos with a vengeance. She was watching him with a smile on her face, holding her scythe. The dinner cart was tipped over, its contents spilled on the floor. Distantly, Ahote was aware of the others fighting with Talon agents, but he was still focused on Kronos.

Ahote leaped over the agent he’d sent sprawling, and sprinted towards Kronos. “Why are you here?!” he demanded, rocketing a punch with his robotic hand towards her face.

She blocked his punch with the blade of her scythe, a loud _clang!_ resulting. “Here I thought you would’ve learned the last time we fought, Cheveyo,” she said. “You can’t beat me.”

“Stop _calling_ me that,” Ahote growled as he stepped forward and launched another punch with his robotic arm at Kronos. When she blocked it again, he used his other hand to wrench the scythe to the side, opening his robotic palm to shoot a laser at Kronos’ face. “That’s _not_ my name!”

Kronos hissed a little in pain and stepped back, reaching up to wipe at the spot on her cheek Ahote had hit. “I see you’re just as annoying as you were before you ran off,” she said, dropping into a less relaxed position. “Good; that’ll make beating you again feel just like--”

Ahote didn’t wait for her to finish. He threw a punch to her gut with his left hand. She stepped back to avoid it, using her scythe’s superior reach to slice the back of Ahote’s shoulder.

Ahote grimaced, stepping back and reaching up to hold his bleeding shoulder. He could feel the poison already working, seeping into his blood, making his limbs take longer to respond. He’d always _hated_ fighting her.

“Aw, can’t take a single cut?” Kronos asked, a mocking pout on her face.

Ahote’s lips lifted in a growl as he turned, kicking out his right, robotic foot. It made contact with her (thankfully, clothed) stomach, and she stumbled back with a wheeze.

Ahote glanced to the side; he couldn’t touch her, and he needed more to attack with than an arm and a leg. His eyes landed on his shield--still sitting atop his suitcase, a little behind Kronos.

He fixated his murderous gaze on Kronos again, and started to step forward. He launched a punch at her face again, which she blocked with her scythe. He lifted both hands to grab the handle of her scythe, pushing against it to try and force her back.

She kept her stance wide, but Ahote pushed harder. She started to move back, her strength no match for his unbridled hatred. She slid her hand down the staff of her scythe, so it brushed against Ahote’s flesh hand.

Ahote grit his teeth and quickly removed his flesh hand from the staff, pushing with only his robotic one. He could feel her toxin spreading through his skin again--not as much as was dripping from the scythe, but enough to make his limbs even more sluggish to respond.

They came to an unmoving stalemate, and Ahote glanced at his shield again. He was within arm’s reach, if only he could--

“Oh, you want this?” Kronos asked, glancing at the shield as a cruel grin twisted her lips. “How badly do you need it, I wonder?”

Before Ahote could puzzle out what she meant, she shoved her scythe forward, quickly removing a hand to reach for the shield. Forgetting himself for a moment, Ahote also reached for the shield--with his flesh hand. Before his fingers could reach it, Kronos ran her hand up his exposed arm with a dark laugh, sending goosebumps through his skin.

Ahote grit his teeth, his arm humming and stopping in place from her extended touch. She used her free hand to grab the shield, peering at it, as she pressed the tip of her scythe against Ahote’s side. The point dug in--a little above the bandage, thankfully--and Ahote could feel more of her toxin seeping into his body. He tried to move his robotic arm, to push the scythe away, but it moved at a glacial pace.

“All that trouble for this silly disc?” she asked, amused. “You’ve gotten sloppy, Cheveyo,” she said, tossing the shield carelessly to the side.

“Not...my...name,” Ahote struggled out, his lips mostly unresponsive already.

Once his body stopped moving, Kronos removed her scythe from his side, slicing it a little to make the wound bigger. “It was nice to see you again, Cheveyo,” she said, her eyes sweeping around the room analytically. “But I’m afraid to inform you that--oh, there it is!” Kronos stepped beyond Ahote’s line of vision for a moment, but when she came back, she was triumphantly holding the USB containing the information they’d retrieved from the Shimada compound.

Ahote screamed at himself to reach out and snatch it from her, but his arm didn’t move at all, as if every nerve in his body was blocked by a steel wall. He could only watch passively as she laughed in his face, and hope that his eyes radiated the fury that kept his heart pumping loudly in his ears.

“This was fun, Cheveyo,” she said. “I almost wish I still had orders to gather you.”

 _Never never never never never never never never never,_ Ahote chanted in his mind. As his tongue moved sluggishly to the back of his teeth to make the _N_ sound, a loud gunshot rang out through the room.

Kronos glanced behind Ahote, then shrugged. “I’ll see you around, Cheveyo,” she said with a dark grin. She reached up to brush a thumb against his chin, forcing more of her immobilizing poison into his body before she turned around, sweeping out of the room. As the other Talon agents ran past Ahote, one bumped into his shoulder, sending him toppling face-first onto the floor.

“Is ev’ryone okay?” McCree asked from behind Ahote.

“Mourning my bacon,” Lúcio said, his voice strained, “but otherwise, alright.” Ahote tried to ignore the cool flush of relief that the words sent through his body.

“Fine,” Hanzo said, curt as ever.

“I am fine,” Genji said. “Thank you, Jesse.”

“Hey, we helped, too!” Lehana piped up. “We made him look menacing!”

“Wait,” Lúcio said. “Ahote, you okay?”

Ahote would’ve responded, but his tongue felt like it was moving through a thick forest of peanut butter.

“Ahote?” Lúcio asked again. He heard movement, before he felt somebody roll him over, onto his back; pain lanced through his body as his injuries were jostled. Ahote’s gaze landed on Lúcio, whose face was shadowed. Lúcio waved a hand in front of Ahote’s face. “Helloooo.”

“The scythe woman was here,” Genji said.

“Scythe woman?” Lúcio asked quickly, looking up.

“She’s got some freaky shit goin’ on,” McCree said. “Somehow gets people t’stop movin’ fer a bit. He’ll be fine in an hour or two.”

Lúcio looked down at Ahote again. “She knew him,” he said.

“What, th’ scythe woman knew Ahote?” McCree asked. When Lúcio nodded, McCree continued, “Well, it makes sense; they used t’be...coworkers….” McCree slowly trailed off, coming to a realization.

“Let’s not jump to any hasty conclusions,” Nicola said, as if he’d picked up on McCree’s train of thought. “He cannot even defend himself right now.”

“We should move, anyway,” Genji said. “Talon knows we are here. We cannot stay.”

“Where are we gonna go?” Lúcio asked. “How are we gonna get Ahote there?”

“I will think of something,” Genji said. “Lúcio, please tend to wounds.”

Lúcio nodded, and glanced back down at Ahote worriedly.

“Ahote _last_ ,” McCree said. “The scythe lady’s magic makes blood flow slower. He’s stable.”

Lúcio nodded, glancing down at Ahote one last time before he stood up and walked away.

Ahote laid there for a while. He heard people stepping through broken glass, and murmured words during conversations. He was cursed to stare at the ceiling, though, and the fuzzy shadows moving across it. Every once in a while he could watch someone walk past him on their way to the kitchen--usually Lúcio, getting more water.

As time passed, Ahote could move more and more. At first he was just able to twitch his fingers and face a little, but after about half an hour, he had full control over his face. He didn’t say anything, opting to stay silent until Lúcio crouched down next to him.

“How’re you holding up?” Lúcio asked.

“Still waiting to wake up,” Ahote grumbled in return. “Starting to think it isn’t a dream.”

“Sorry, man,” Lúcio replied, giving a sympathetic grin. “You’re _very_ awake. Can you move?”

“Just my face.”

Lúcio nodded, sliding a hand behind Ahote’s uninjured shoulder. “I’m gonna push you up,” he warned. “Ready?”

“Ready,” Ahote said. When Lúcio began pressing upwards, Ahote grit his teeth and winced at the pain in his body. He felt sore--like he’d just run fifty miles, then taken a nap.

When Ahote was sitting up, Lúcio’s hand against his chest to keep him upright, he blinked at the room. It looked like a tornado had blown through it; shattered glass was still all over the floor. Some spots in the carpet had blood splattered over them. Ahote spotted McCree and Genji on the balcony, and Hanzo--on the couch--speaking in hushed tones with Nicola and Lehana. Hanzo had blood splattered over his clothes, and bandages spread across his bicep and chest. Nicola and Lehana seemed relatively unscathed.

“We should try cleaning this up,” Ahote said quietly. “The hotel staff shouldn’t have to deal with it.”

“Maybe once you’re back in working order,” Lúcio said. He brushed around the cut on Ahote’s shoulder for a moment before he said, “I have to take your shirt off--is that alright?”

“That’s fine,” Ahote said. “I can’t move my arms, though, so...good luck.”

Lúcio gingerly held up one of Ahote’s arms, sliding the shirt over it. Ahote tried to ignore the blush (of embarrassment, he was sure, from needing help to do something so simple) rushing to his cheeks.

“So,” Lúcio said as he reached across for Ahote’s other arm. “What’s up with the lady with the scythe?”

Ahote was able to ignore the gentle touch of Lúcio’s hands after he heard the question. “She’s called Kronos,” he ground out.

“Kronos,” Lúcio repeated, as he pulled Ahote’s shirt over his head. “How does she do...this?” He gestured to Ahote’s immobile body.

“I don’t know the details,” Ahote replied. “She does it through contact--either skin-to-skin, or with her scythe. The more she touches you, the slower your body responds, until it just...can’t.”

“Huh,” Lúcio replied, dunking a towel in the bucket of water next to him before he held it to Ahote’s shoulder wound. Ahote grimaced at the stinging once it made contact. “So you two...worked together?”

“No,” Ahote said vehemently, rage rolling through his veins again. When he felt Lúcio pause for a moment, Ahote glanced towards him, trying to relax. “Sorry,” he muttered. “Just...no, we didn’t work together.”

“She seemed to know you, uh, pretty well,” Lúcio said. “Even had a nickname.”

“That wasn’t a nickname,” Ahote said, angry fire in his stomach again. “That was my callsign, when I was with them.” He growled lowly, “ _She_ picked it.”

“Not a fan, I’m guessing,” Lúcio replied, as he gently pressed a bandage to Ahote’s shoulder.

Ahote glanced at the others, noticing Hanzo’s gaze riveted on him. When he caught Ahote looking, he narrowed his eyes and looked away. “Not even a little,” Ahote replied, watching Hanzo warily.

“Is there a story?” Lúcio asked, shifting to Ahote’s other side. “With the callsign, I mean.”

“Sort of.”

Lúcio waited for a moment, then sighed as he glanced up at Ahote. “I guess I’m not hearing that one till later, too, then.”

Ahote grimaced, looking down at Lúcio. “Sorry,” he said, softly. “I just--don’t think I’m in the best story-giving mood, right now.”

“Nah, it’s fine,” Lúcio said flippantly, pressing a moist towel to the new injury in Ahote’s side. Ahote grimaced at it again, but didn’t vocalize his displeasure.

When he heard somebody crunch over the glass, Ahote looked up, spotting Genji and McCree walking into the ruined room. Genji nodded at Ahote, but McCree glared at him.

“I have set up arrangements elsewhere,” Genji announced, drawing everyone’s attention to him. “We should leave now--Lúcio, how is everyone?”

Lúcio shrugged a shoulder, focused on his work with Ahote. “Mostly patched up, now,” he said as he pressed a bandage gently across the wound.. “Probably ready to travel.”

Genji nodded. “Good,” he said. “I would begin packing, then.”

“What about him?” McCree asked. When Genji turned to look at him, McCree nodded to Ahote.

“What _about_ him, Jesse?” Genji asked. “He is coming with us.”

“Y’sure that’s smart?” McCree asked, crossing his arms.

It took Ahote a moment to understand McCree’s insinuation. Once he realized, he grumbled, “I thought we’d moved past this.”

“‘N’ I thought we could trust ya,” McCree said, focusing his gaze on Ahote. “That was Talon. How could they have found us, without you?”

“They’re resourceful,” Ahote said. He continued, “I didn’t sell you out, McCree. You know me better than that.”

“Do I?” McCree challenged.

Ahote stared at him, at a loss for a response. McCree stared back, eyes hard and unforgiving.

“Jesse,” Lehana started. “I don’t think he’s lying.”

McCree blinked, looking at Lehana. “Rookie?” he prompted, voice tense.

“Well--why would he sell us out,” Lehana reasoned, “then get attacked by one of their agents? It doesn’t make sense.”

“T’fool us,” McCree answered promptly. “So it don’t look suspicious.” He looked back at Ahote, his eyes narrowed. “But it _does_.”

“But he got hurt,” Lehana said. “If I had a spy in another organization’s ranks, I wouldn’t tell one of my members to slice him up so bad.”

“Then how did they find us, Rookie?” McCree demanded, looking back at Lehana.

“Maybe they have a way of tracking him,” she suggested. “That he doesn’t know about--since he used to be Talon and all. It seems like something they’d do.”

“They don’t,” Ahote said.

“Well, either way,” McCree said, ignoring Ahote, “we cain’t trust ‘im. We should leave ‘im he--”

“Leave him behind? Are you nuts?” Lúcio asked. Ahote realized Lúcio still had a hand on his shoulder, propping him up, as he continued, “He’s part of the team, Jesse.”

McCree snorted. “I don’t need a _rat_ in any team’a mine.”

“He’s not a rat,” Lúcio argued. “He’s as much a part of this team as me or Genji. You’ve been training with him for months!”

“Lyin’ fer months is easy, Lúcio,” McCree said. “‘N’ besides, if it’s like Rookie said, he’s still a danger. We still can’t take ‘im with us.”

“I never said that meant we should leave him behind,” Lehana said. McCree looked back at her, incredulous. She crossed her arms defiantly. “That would be fucked, Jess--look at the state he’s in!”

“So, what, we _take_ the liability?” McCree asked. “Why am I the only one that thinks this is a bad idea?”

“You are not,” Hanzo said. He was leaning back on the couch, his arms crossed as he regarded Ahote. “It is a bad idea.”

“ _Thank_ you,” McCree said, glancing at Hanzo. “What if Talon finds us again, ‘cause’a him?”

“I didn’t lead Talon to us,” Ahote said. “They’re resourceful. They knew we were in the area because of the news stories. You think I wanna side with the people that treat me like _this_?” He nodded in the direction of the bandage on his shoulder.

“Awful convenient t’have an alibi like that cooked up,” McCree said.

Ahote ground his teeth, narrowing his eyes at McCree. “You’re gonna dismiss everything I say, aren’t you?” he asked.

McCree nodded. “I try not t’listen t’liars,” he said.

“He isn’t a liar,” Lúcio said.

“‘N’ how d’you know that?” McCree asked. “Look at the facts, Lúcio!”

“The facts are,” Lúcio began, heated and quick, “that he’s been on the run from Talon for a year. He hates everything to do with them. He hates the chick with the scythe--Kronos--and probably wouldn’t ever agree to work with her.”

“It could have been an act,” Hanzo suggested.

“Who are you, again?” Lehana asked. “Leaving him is _wrong_ , Jess.”

“That is enough,” Genji said. When everyone turned to look at him, he said, “If Jesse feels that strongly, I will hold it to a vote: bring Ahote, or leave him.”

“Y’know my position,” McCree said.

“Bring him with us, right, Jess?” Lehana asked. “‘Cause it’s the right thing to do?”

McCree snorted. “No,” he said. “I’m lookin’ out for _our_ safety.”

“The cowboy is right,” Hanzo said. “Leave the traitor. We cannot afford another attack.”

“I’m with Ro,” Lúcio said stubbornly. “Ahote’s been nothing but a teammate to all of you.”

“Two and two,” Genji said, before he looked at Nico, seated on the bed next to Lehana. “Nico?”

“Must I vote?” Nicola asked. “I see merit in both sides.”

Genji watched him for a moment before he nodded, looking at Ahote again. “Then it seems I must break the tie.”

Ahote stared at Genji with his head high and his jaw set. He supposed it was inevitable, for them to start doubting and questioning. Had he been in their shoes, he would’ve done the same thing. Still, he’d hoped they would’ve trusted him a _bit_ more than that. He’d have to flee, as soon as he was able to move again; there was no doubt that Kronos was already reporting his appearance to her superiors, and once that happened, it would only be a matter of time until she was hunting him again. He--

“Ahote is coming with us,” Genji said. Ahote blinked at him, his thoughts stalling in place.

McCree responded first, with a sigh and a quiet, “Dammit, Genji. Yer too nice.”

“Foolish is the word I would use,” Hanzo grumbled.

“Can we get back to packing, now?” Genji asked, ignoring the comments. “We need to leave.”

“A spoon as possible?” Lehana suggested.

Genji nodded to her, a strained smile breaking across his face. “A spoon as possible,” he agreed, before he stepped over to his suitcase.

Ahote looked back at Lúcio, still a little stunned, as everyone seemed to creep back into motion. Lúcio had a concerned expression on as he watched Ahote’s face. “You, uh, need any help?”

“I’m...mostly packed,” Ahote said slowly. “Just need my shield in my suitcase, and I’m good.”

“But not your shirt back on?” Lúcio asked.

Ahote blinked, glancing down at his bare chest, heat rushing to his cheeks. “...I forgot,” he said quietly. “Was I--”

“Shirtless the entire argument?” Lúcio asked with a small grin. “Yeah. Here, let me….”

Lúcio picked up Ahote’s shirt, but Ahote shook his head, slowly lifting a hand to take it. “I can now,” he said. “Moving helps it wear off quicker.”

Lúcio nodded, letting Ahote take the shirt. It took Ahote about three minutes to pull it on, but after it did, he huffed out a breath. Lúcio patted Ahote on the shoulder and stood up.

“I need to pack,” he said. “You need anything else?”

Ahote shook his head, slowly lifting a hand to rub at his shoulder. “Thanks, Lúcio,” he said after a moment. “For--uh, taking my side, and for the help.”

Lúcio waved a hand. “Don’t mention it,” he said, giving Ahote a grin. “If you were a spy, you wouldn’t be so likeable, right?”

Ahote lifted a brow. “You think I’m likeable?”

“Well, you try to make it hard,” Lúcio replied with a shrug, “but if someone’s persistent enough, sure you are.”

Ahote gave Lúcio a half-smile. “Thanks,” he said after a moment.

Lúcio nodded at him before he stepped away.

It took Ahote five minutes to stand, but he was slowly getting his bearings back. He could only hope getting the others’ trust again would be as simple.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, that was an exciting write, lmao. Kronos belongs to my friend ivy, who can be found at wallywestforpresident.tumblr.com!! Expect to see her again ;^)


	10. Paranoia

It took Genji thirty minutes to drive them all to the new safehouse. They were piled in the van; since they’d gained an extra addition with Hanzo, Ahote felt on edge again--not to mention the appearance of Talon. He was in the back seat of the van again, pressed against the wall, his teeth and hands both clenched, and he jumped every time Lúcio’s knee bumped against his.

Talon had found him. They hadn’t been searching for him specifically, of course--he imagined they’d long since given up that search. But...there was nothing keeping them from finding him again, from making him a priority. There was nothing keeping Kronos from going out of her way to ruin his life once more.

Lúcio tried talking to him, but Ahote wasn’t very good company at that moment. He didn’t really hear what Lúcio was saying, so he could only glance, nod, and mumble _mhmm_ in response. As he stared at the buildings rushing past the window, Ahote’s thoughts were occupied with Talon--why did it want the information from the Shimada compound? The thought that Talon was interested in an influential syndicate like the Shimadas didn’t sit right with him.

Ahote didn’t like it. He felt jumpy, and endlessly bounced his knee. He wanted to take a jog, or hit a punching bag, or something; he didn’t feel right sitting in a cramped car, being escorted to a new safehouse. He doubted it would be safer than the hotel had been. Talon had ways of getting whatever it wanted.

After the thirty-minute drive, Genji pulled to a slow stop in front of a squat, dingy building, that seemed to be sagging against the building to the right of it. The sunlight streaming through the thick smoke in the air only served to highlight the peeling white paint of the front door. The sign out front read _KAWAMOTO MOTEL_ , though the only evidence remaining of the _E_ was a bleached stain in the paint of the sign.

“Does that sign down there say brothel?” McCree asked, from the front seat.

“It is not the best area,” Genji began to warn.

Hanzo interrupted, “Could you do no better, Genji?”

“It was short notice,” Genji defended himself. “And it is low-profile. Talon will not find us here.”

Ahote had to swallow a bitter laugh. He guessed Genji underestimated Talon--though he didn’t think it would help his case if he said as much.

When everyone else began to move, Ahote did, too; he piled out of the car with them and grabbed his suitcase, moving almost habitually as he looked around, on high alert.

There were lots of people around, loudly rushing into and out of unkempt buildings, and to and from vendors shouting about their wares at small stalls. There were shady figures, too--hunched over, casting furtive glances over their shoulders. Ahote eyed those ones the closest. He hated not being able to tell who was conducting regular illegal business, and who was Talon. He didn’t feel safe, and was ready to run at any second.

Ahote guessed Lúcio noticed his anxiety. As they walked to the door, bags in tow, Lúcio leaned closer to Ahote to ask quietly, “Are you okay, Aho?”

Ahote glanced at Lúcio for a moment, though he kept scanning the area. “Fine,” he said, his voice tight.

“You look like you’re ready to tear someone’s face off,” Lúcio said. “I don’t think that’s fine.”

“It’s almost like we were just attacked and forced to move,” Ahote snapped, annoyed at the distraction from his sentry work. “How do _you_ feel so safe?”

Lúcio held up his free hand in surrender. “Whoa, chill,” he said. “I just wanna try to help.”

“I’m _fine_ ,” Ahote ground out. “Really.”

Once Lúcio shrugged and moved away again, Ahote felt bad for how he’d acted. He was too anxious to apologize at that moment, however, and instead kept glancing around, even after they’d entered the lobby.

The room was small, barely able to fit all of them. There were two or three leather-bound chairs (though Ahote hesitated to call them that, as the leather had mostly peeled off to reveal the cotton underneath). The floorboards were stained and creaked with each step. Ahote found himself next to a fishtank with furry green walls, and one small, yellow fish that he could barely see through all the grime.

Genji exchanged some words in Japanese with the man at the front desk. After a few moments--which Ahote assumed were to haggle out a deal--the man handed Genji six cards, while Genji handed over a few bills of money. When he made his way out of the small room, everyone followed suit.

“I suppose our rooms are not _in_ the building?” Nicola asked once they were on the packed street again.

Ahote only half-listened as Genji explained that the rooms were the next lot over, around the perimeter of a small parking lot. The flimsy-looking wooden doors were stained and weathered by the outside forces.

Genji stopped on the sidewalk, bringing out the key cards. “We have three rooms,” he said.

“Can I get my own room?” Lehana immediately asked. “Pleaaaase, Genji?”

“C’mon, Rookie,” McCree said. “Don’t like sharin’?”

“I’m _drowning_ in testosterone!” Lehana complained. “I need space!”

“Each room has two beds, and no couch,” Genji continued, as if he hadn’t been interrupted. “Someone will have to share with you, Lehana.”

Lehana groaned. “C’monnnn,” she grumbled.

“Would you rather bunk with Jesse again?” Genji asked.

“No,” she sighed in response. “But whoever I bunk with better not have stinky feet.”

“My feet don’t stink,” McCree protested.

“I will share Lehana’s room,” Hanzo said, his arms crossed. When everyone glanced at him with surprise, he frowned. “What?”

“You just seem kinda, you know, antisocial,” Lehana said.

Hanzo snorted. “I can share a room with you for a night. I will not fall sick, unless you are contagious.”

“I’ll try not to cough on you, then,” Lehana deadpanned. “No promises.”

They continued to discuss--Genji asking Hanzo if he was positive with his decision, Ahote guessed, but Ahote stopped listening. He continued scanning the area for any trouble. There was a pair in front of one of the motel doors, exchanging soft whispers and standing very close. He watched them warily.

Something brushing his shoulder startled him out of his watching. He snapped his hand up to slap the item--a hand--away, whirling his head to look at the perpetrator. Lúcio.

Ahote crossed his arms, glancing away guiltily. “Sorry,” he muttered. “Are we going?”

Lúcio nodded and frowned at Ahote as he said, “Yeah.” He looked like he wanted to say something else, but Ahote followed after Genji instead, deciding to not wait for Lúcio to continue.

Their new room was smaller than the last. The two beds were thinner, and there were more stains on the carpeted floor. Ahote didn’t care to identify where they were from. Cracks ran up the old wallpaper. Ahote assumed the yellowing curtains had once been white, and the clock on the wall was broken.

Ahote set his suitcase in the closet before he opened the curtains, peering outside. The parking lot seemed deserted, but the street beyond was still crawling with people.

“Have you told Winston yet, Genji?” Lúcio asked from behind Ahote.

Ahote crossed his arms and leaned against the windowsill as Genji replied, “Not yet. I will call him at a decent hour.”

“Oh, three in the morning isn’t decent?” Lúcio asked. “News to me.”

Ahote tuned out the rest of the conversation, focusing instead on the view outside. They were on the ground floor, though he’d seen the others had made their way to the top, second floor. There was a small sitting area directly outside their window. It didn’t seem particularly appealing, but Ahote supposed it was better than nothing.

The rest of that day was spent in wait. Ahote mostly stared out the window, his muscles taut and ready to move at a moment’s notice. Lúcio managed to pull him away for a meal, at least, but Ahote barely ate a few bites before he was up again.

He paced, too--when he couldn’t bear to stand still any longer, he paced the length of the room. Whenever he caught Genji’s and Lúcio’s concerned glances, he stopped pacing to stare out the window again.

He felt trapped. He felt stuck. He reconsidered the wisdom in joining Overwatch. He would’ve been on his own, sure, but Talon had stopped looking for him. He likely would’ve been free forever, able to live a normal life. He’d thrown all of that away for--what? Defense?

But he would’ve been scared, he reminded himself--always on the run, always keeping his head down, and his face in the shadows. He wouldn’t have been able to trust anyone. He decided with a glance to Lúcio and Genji that it might’ve been worth the risk, to find people he could trust.

Genji called Winston at nine PM. Winston, understandably, was very concerned for everyone; he asked for lots of details, particularly about Kronos. Ahote let Genji answer everything. At the end of the call, Winston apologized, but said he still needed time to work out a plan, and that he’d contact them as soon as he had one.

Genji sighed a little as he ended the call. “This is a mess,” he said.

“Don’t stress about it, man,” Lúcio replied. “It’ll all work out fine.”

“You are probably right,” Genji said, before he stood from his bed. “I should go check on Hanzo and Lehana--I imagine they are coming to blows about now.”

“Good luck,” Lúcio said. “If anyone gets hurt, I’ll be here.”

“Thank you,” Genji replied. The door shut shortly afterwards.

Ahote was still staring out the window. He watched Genji walk up the steps, probably to Hanzo’s room. Once Genji was out of sight, Ahote continued watching the street.

He heard Lúcio sigh, but he didn’t glance back at him. “Are you still saying you’re fine?” Lúcio asked.

Ahote frowned, reminded of their previous conversation. He kept his eyes glued on the window as he said, “...Sorry. About earlier.”

“I get it,” Lúcio said. “You just seem really freaked out, man.” Ahote stayed silent. “I just...wanna make sure you’re not on a path to self-destruct, you know?”

Ahote stayed silent again before he slowly said, “I’m not. I just...want to be careful, now. More than we were before.”

“We are being careful,” Lúcio said. “I mean--look at the place Genji booked for us, right?” Ahote stayed silent, though he knew Lúcio had meant it to lighten the mood. Lúcio sighed. “Just...don’t stress yourself out too much about it, alright?” he asked. “Remember what I said about prioritizing your body’s needs?”

Ahote nodded, glancing at Lúcio for just a moment. “Yeah,” he muttered. “...Thanks.”

They didn’t speak much after that. Genji returned shortly after, then suggested they get to sleep; he wanted to wake up early to do something productive, since they’d be there for a while still.

“Alright,” Lúcio yawned once he was dressed in his pajamas. “Who’s sharing with who?”

Ahote glanced at the beds for a moment, pressing his lips together. He stayed silent as Genji carefully said, “After the attack earlier, some of us may appreciate having space more than others, so--”

“Don’t worry about it,” Ahote said. “Sleep in separate beds. It’ll be fine.”

“Don’t tell me you’re gonna try sleeping on the floor,” Lúcio said. “I’m pretty sure it hasn’t been cleaned since it was put down.”

“No,” Ahote said.

“Then who are you sharing with?” Lúcio asked, crossing his arms. “Not sleeping isn’t an option.”

“I’ll sleep,” Ahote said. “...Eventually. I’m just not tired right now.”

“Okay,” Lúcio said. “Just--” He shook his head, rubbing a hand over his face. “Just bunk with me. I’m a heavy sleeper--I won’t wake up if you get in late.”

Ahote hesitated--he didn’t _really_ want to share a bed, not that night, but he knew Lúcio would insist. He slowly nodded. “Sure,” he said. “Thanks.”

Lúcio nodded, watching Ahote for a moment before he stepped closer to the bed. “Don’t forget to sleep,” he said.

“I won’t,” Ahote said. “I’ll be right outside.”

As Lúcio and Genji slid into their respective beds, Ahote stepped outside. The door shut behind him softly, and he inhaled deeply as he stared out at the street.

He already felt intimately acquainted with it. He sat down in one of the chairs in front of the window in his room; the chair squeaked under him, then fell silent.

In the nighttime, the street seemed...more menacing. It had far more shadows and darkness, despite the glowing neon lights denoting shops and businesses. Lights lined people’s (leather, skintight) clothes as well. From that far, Ahote couldn’t see any details, but he could still hear. There was pounding club music coming from across the street, mingling with the chatter of people on the street, and music emanating from the building next door.

A new noise entered the mix, though--the shutting of a door above Ahote. He froze, tilting his head to listen closely, but didn’t hear anyone descending the stairs. He glanced up, and saw hands extending from the railing of the second story, as if someone was leaning against it.

“Ah, bella!” Nicola’s voice drifted from above. “It is so good to hear your voice again!”

Ahote frowned, silent. Nicola likely didn’t know he was there.

After a moment of silence, Nicola _tsk_ ed. “Always so professional!” he lamented. “But let me see...I last contacted you when we landed in Japan, yes?” He waited a second, then said, “We stormed the Shimadas’ castle--I’m sure you saw the news reports. Lehana detonated her board; I do wish you’d warned me she does that.”

Nicola was silent again, before he chuckled. “I’m teasing, cara! Anyways, we picked up an addition--Hanzo Shimada, I am surprised he didn’t come with trumpets--and managed to get information about a god program named Orochi.” Nicola waited a beat, then said, “Yes. _That_ Orochi. It intends to get the Shimadas to turn on the omnium.”

Nicola stopped talking for a long while, only murmuring agreements. Ahote’s mind whirled--Nicola was reporting their activities to...someone. Ahote would have to find out who.

“There is more, cicci,” Nicola said gently. “Shortly after we received the information, we were attacked--by Talon.” He was silent for a moment, then sighed. “I am fine, but regarding _him_...I do not think he is responsible. He seems genuinely shaken from the attack. The others seem torn, though; Jesse does not trust him.”

Ahote stifled a snort as he stood up from his seat. He sort of appreciated the sentiment, but as Nicola was in the middle of spilling secrets, he didn’t particularly care.

As Ahote walked toward the stairs, Nicola continued, “We are waiting for Winston to form a plan. I imagine he’d like us to get rid of this god program somehow.” Nicola scoffed at something the other person said. “Well, this is Overwatch--pride is how they make things happen, no?”

Once Ahote reached the top step, Nicola glanced back. His gaze locked onto Ahote. “Ah--Ahote?” he asked, whirling around. “I, er, did not see you there. Have you--?”

“The whole time,” Ahote said, crossing his arms as he stared at Nicola with a frown.

“I will have to call you back,” Nicola mumbled into his phone. “Ciao, bella!” he said, before he ended the call and shoved the phone into his pocket.

“Who was that?” Ahote asked.

“Nobody,” Nicola said, shrugging his shoulder.

“You gave them a lot of information for being _nobody_ ,” Ahote replied.

“Really,” Nicola said. “They are of no concern to you.”

“Then I’m sure you won’t mind telling me,” Ahote said. He narrowed his eyes at Nicola. The evasion was just making Ahote more distrustful of him.

“If you insist,” Nicola sighed, “it was...my girlfriend. Back in Italy.”

“You expect me to believe that?” Ahote asked.

“It is the truth,” Nicola said helplessly. “She worries, so I tell her what we do, to keep her from worrying so much.”

“You give her lots of detail,” Ahote claimed.

“What can I say?” Nicola asked. “She likes detail--and it helps to make her feel like she is here, at least a little bit.”

Ahote kept frowning at Nicola. “You said something about her warning you about Lehana’s board exploding,” he said, still not buying Nicola’s excuse.

“Yes!” Nicola said. “She, ah, was a fan of Lehana’s. Back in the day, of course.”

“Back in the day,” Ahote repeated. Nicola nodded. “Her Blackwatch days.” Nicola nodded again. “When Blackwatch was secret and hidden.”

“I’m getting the sense you don’t believe me,” Nicola said.

“I don’t.”

They stared at one another for a moment. Nicola sighed, glancing away for a moment. “So, what are you going to do?” he asked. “Is it time for a duel to the death?”

Ahote scrutinized Nicola as he considered. He didn’t believe Nicola even _had_ a girlfriend. He was hiding something--but that was nothing new. The thought that Nicola might’ve been the one to tip off Talon occurred to Ahote, but he quickly dismissed it; Nicola wouldn’t have reported about the Talon attack if it had been them, and he would’ve just been repeating information. But there was nothing saying Nicola wasn’t a double agent for _two_ organizations.

Regardless, Ahote knew he couldn’t just attack Nicola in the middle of the night. Nicola had the trust of some of the others, surely, but Ahote didn’t. Attacking Nicola might make Ahote seem like he was pinning the blame on someone else to save his own skin--or it might otherwise jeopardize his position in Overwatch. He frowned when he remembered Lehana attacking him during training. He’d never blamed her for it, but he was keenly aware of how she’d felt as he watched Nicola.

“No,” Ahote finally answered. “I won’t stay silent, but I won’t fight you yet, Nicola.”

“That is a relief,” Nicola said with a grin. “I like my place here in Overwatch. I would not try to endanger that.”

“Maybe stop being so shady, then,” Ahote said, unamused. “And stop flirting with people when you’ve got a fake girlfriend.”

Nicola chuckled. “Ironic advice, coming from you,” he said. “And how can I not compliment the many attractive people I’m surrounded by? It would be a crime!”

Ahote stared at Nicola a moment more before he shook his head. “I’m going back to my room,” he said.

“Of course,” Nicola said, inclining his head towards Ahote. “Thank you for not attacking me. Hand-to-hand combat is not my strong suit.” A lopsided grin crossed his face as he said, “Perhaps you could show me some pointers, eh?”

Ahote turned around to walk down the stairs. “Goodnight, Nicola,” he called over his shoulder, refusing to answer. Nicola’s only response was a laugh before he stepped back into his room.

Ahote froze once he was standing in front of the door to his room again. He stared at the knob, thinking; he could’ve told Genji right then about Nicola. But Genji was probably asleep already, and Ahote didn’t think troubling his rest with the news would be helpful. Besides, Ahote was pretty sure he’d left his key card inside, so there was no way in.

Ahote sat back in the chair next to the door with a sigh, settling in for a long wait. He propped his feet on another chair, gaze scanning the parking lot and the street, which was still bustling with activity. There was an analog across the street that proudly displayed the time in obnoxious pink neon lights-- _21:45_.

Nobody really entered the small parking lot as Ahote watched, which he was grateful for. There were some stragglers, but they all stumbled their way into a room. Ahote wished he’d brought something to do with him outside--maybe something to work on his prosthetics with. They never really worked right after Kronos messed with them.

Ahote felt his skin crawl when he thought about her. He was a little ashamed at how much he’d blocked other things out once he spotted her. He could’ve warned the others before the ambush, could’ve moved away from the window, but he’d been frozen with terror and hatred. He could feel a diluted anger running through his veins as he thought about it again. Even when he was free, she still somehow manipulated him.

The crowds dispersed at around three in the morning. There were still some walking around, but Ahote supposed the clubs were closed, as it was much quieter. His eyelids were heavy, but he forced himself to keep them open. He wasn’t about to fall asleep on a porch, when he had nothing to defend himself with--particularly not when Talon had an eye on him.

He thought about what they’d be doing at that moment. Probably trying to analyze the information they’d gotten, unless Nicola had already told them what was on it. They’d want to be thorough, though--they’d always underestimated Overwatch at least a little bit. There might’ve been scouts out, too--lookouts for him, or the other Overwatch members. He didn’t think they’d think to look in an area like the motel he was in unless they were desperate.

Ahote was glad he’d only worn a tank top outside; it was hot. It wasn’t too unbearable, but he felt sticky--likely because of the humidity. He hadn’t noticed it in their previous safehouse, but it was _humid_. Mosquitos tried to make a meal of him every now and then, which was annoying.

It started raining at around five in the morning. It was a steady drizzle, and it would’ve been nice had it not been for the leaky awning above Ahote. A drop of water fell onto his head, and he looked up before a steady stream splattered onto his face.

“Really?” he grumbled as he moved his chair to the side to avoid the water. He hoped the rooms weren’t as leaky.

It was still raining by the time the door behind Ahote opened, at seven in the morning. Ahote looked over the back of his chair to spot Genji, carefully closing the door behind him.

Genji blinked when his eyes landed on Ahote. “Good morning,” Genji greeted, gaze sweeping across the parking lot before he sat down across the table.

“Morning,” Ahote mumbled, dropping his feet from the chair he’d been using as a footrest. “Sleep well?”

“As well as I could,” Genji said. “How did you sleep?” he carefully asked.

“Uh,” Ahote said, hesitating before he decided to tell most of the truth, “I...locked myself out. On accident.”

“You were out here all night?” Genji asked.

Ahote nodded. “Heard some interesting things, too,” he said.

“While you were supposed to be sleeping,” Genji said. “Lúcio will not be pleased.”

Ahote waved away the comment, leaning forward in his seat. “That’s not important right now,” he said. “Did you know Nicola’s been reporting our activities to someone?”

“Really?” Genji asked. “To who?”

“He said it was his girlfriend,” Ahote said, “but...I don’t think so. He mentioned they knew about Lehana’s board exploding, and said they didn’t warn him about that.”

Genji frowned, silent for a moment, before he slowly said, “It is strange that somebody would remember that about her, but perhaps Nico was mistaken? Then again, Lehana’s explosions were never very subtle.” Genji inhaled deeply, looking down at the table as he thought. “But he could always be telling the truth, as well….”

“He mentioned the name of the god program,” Ahote supplied. “And that we were attacked by Talon.”

Genji sighed, reaching up to rub at his face. “We cannot afford to lose anyone right now,” he said. “Not when we are so disconnected from the rest of Overwatch. We have no way to check who he was talking to--”

“We could take his phone,” Ahote said. “Trace the call?”

Genji stared at Ahote for a moment before he shook his head. “We need trust between our members right now,” he said. “Nico included. Thank you for telling me about this, Ahote, but short of keeping an eye on him….”

“You’re not doing anything,” Ahote translated.

Genji shrugged helplessly. “As long as he is not contacting Talon or anyone else looking to attack us, the information he is giving is harmless,” he said.

“And if he _is_ contacting people looking to hurt us?” Ahote asked. “We just have another repeat of yesterday, right?”

“You asked us to trust you yesterday,” Genji said. “Despite most of the signs pointing to you. Giving Nicola that same trust would only be fair, Ahote.”

Ahote frowned, looking down at his hands. He wanted to argue that it was completely different, and that he wasn’t anything like Nicola, but he knew Genji was right--at least a little. They did need to stick together. Ahote knew Nicola was a liar, but he had no proof it was for a bad cause.

“Alright,” Ahote said. “I understand, Genji.” He stood up from his seat. “I’m...gonna go take a shower, then. I feel gross.”

Genji nodded. “Good idea,” he said. “Try to find eight hours’ worth of sleep in there too, huh?”

Ahote snorted. “I’ll get my magnifying glass,” he said as he stepped to the door. He blinked at it, then looked back at Genji. “I don’t--”

Genji sighed, extending a keycard towards Ahote.

“Thanks,” Ahote said quietly, as he took the card. He used it to open the door, then handed it back to Genji as he propped the door open. “I’ll try to remember it in the future.”

“Or you could just sit outside for hours again,” Genji said. “Both are good options.”

Ahote shrugged. “At least I’ve got a plan B,” he said as he stepped through the door. He nodded goodbye to Genji before he shut the door.

Lúcio was curled up in a corner of his bed, still fast asleep. The room was nearly pitch-black, and Ahote was grateful he had a light on his robotic arm as he carefully made his way across the floor. A leg of the dresser nearly tripped him, but he caught himself without making too much of a commotion. Lúcio didn’t wake up. After that, Ahote was able to quietly grab some clothes and make his way to the small bathroom.

The door didn’t close fully unless it was locked. Ahote wouldn’t have left it unlocked anyways, but it was still a little unsettling. The tile around the room was yellowish and scuffed, and the grout was dark brown. The lightbulb in the lamp on the wall flickered every three seconds, and Ahote saw the tail ends of several roaches when he opened the mirror cabinet above the sink to look for...something. He didn’t want to admit he was looking for surveillance items. He knew it was silly.

When he closed the cabinet, he stared at himself in the mirror for a second. It was spotted with dried water droplets, but he could still see himself--russet skin, eyes dark-brown-almost-black, scar trailing the left side of his jaw (the same side as his prosthetic arm). He knew he looked tired; there were bruises under his eyes, and his neutral expression made him look like he was frowning.

He took his hair out of its ponytail, letting it fall to his elbows, before he stripped. There were more scars scattered along his body, but he didn’t think about them; it felt like they’d all happened a lifetime ago.

The shower itself wasn’t so bad. It had great water pressure, all things considered--though no matter what Ahote did, it felt like freezing pellets of ice battering his skin. He couldn’t say he felt particularly tired after the shower, and all the grime from the day prior had been washed away, but he also couldn’t say he was relaxed.

As he pulled his clothes on, he nearly fell in the small bathroom; without the shower, it was barely large enough to hold just him. He put his hair back into a ponytail, still dripping wet, before he opened the door and stepped out.

Lúcio was already dressed and tying on his sneakers. The room was filled with light--mostly from the small window, though it had some help from lamps. Genji was still outside, visible through the window. He seemed to be on the phone.

Lúcio glanced over his shoulder at Ahote as he reached down to tie his second shoe. “Oh, hey, you’re out!” he said. “Morning!”

“Morning,” Ahote said. He glanced out the window at Genji as he walked over to Lúcio. “Who’s Genji talking to?”

Lúcio shrugged as he sat up straight, his shoes tied. “Dunno,” he said. “Probably Winston.” As Ahote perched on the corner of the bed, Lúcio narrowed his eyes at him. “You slept, right?”

“Uh,” Ahote said, glancing away.

“Aho,” Lúcio groaned. “C’mon, man.”

“I locked myself out,” Ahote said apologetically. “I didn’t _mean_ to.”

“You locked--” Lúcio repeated, then blinked. “What, you were outside all night?”

“Well, not _all_ night,” Ahote said, then nodded. “But...yeah, pretty much.”

Lúcio sighed, reaching up to run a hand over his face. “What am I gonna do with you?” he grumbled.

“Would it be too morbid if I said I can sleep when I’m dead?” Ahote asked.

Lúcio nodded. “Just a little, yeah,” he replied, then looked at Ahote. “Put your key card in your wallet or something, so you don’t get locked out again.”

Ahote sighed and stood up before he walked over to where his key card was resting, on the corner of the dresser. As he picked it up, Genji strode through the door.

“Understood, Winston,” Genji said into his phone. “I will tell the others now. Thank you. Goodbye.”

As Genji ended the call, Lúcio stood up and said, “That sounded important.”

Genji nodded. “It is.” He looked up at them before he said, “I need to tell the others, too. We will meet in Hanzo and Lehana’s room.”

Within three minutes, Ahote and Lúcio were piling into the room in question. One bed looked messy, with sheets thrown on the floor, while the other seemed freshly made. Ahote didn’t have to guess as to who had slept where.

“I can’t believe we have to have the big group meeting in _my_ room,” Lehana grumbled. She was sitting with her legs crossed on her bed, her brown, freckled thighs peeking out of short pajama shorts. She dug into her bowl of cereal, frowning down at it.

“ _Our_ room,” Hanzo said. He was standing next to his bed, his arms crossed, and he didn’t look pleased at the intrusion. Ahote couldn’t say he was, either.

“Where did you get that cereal?” Lúcio asked.

“I pack snacks,” Lehana replied, inhaling a big spoonful. “You wan’ fum?”

“Ehh,” Lúcio said, wrinkling his nose, “I’m fine, thanks.”

Lehana shrugged before she swallowed loudly. “Your loss.”

Hanzo dropped his head to pinch the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. “Where,” he asked slowly, “is Genji?”

“He’s coming in a moment,” Ahote replied, sympathizing with Hanzo. “He had to get the others.”

After Ahote finished speaking, there was a knock on the door. Hanzo gave a relieved sigh before he quickly stepped over to open it. Genji breezed through, with McCree (still groggily blinking, holding a steaming mug) and Nicola (bright-eyed and wide awake) tailing after him. When Nicola met Ahote’s gaze, Ahote narrowed his eyes before pointedly looking at Genji.

“Winston called,” Genji said as everyone settled around the small room. Nicola stood near Ahote, so Ahote quietly shuffled closer to Lúcio as Genji continued, “He has a plan.”

“Well, don’ keep us in suspense, Genji,” McCree said, before he took a sip from his mug.

“We are going after the god program,” Genji said. “To help us, Winston is sending two recruits. One is Elisa, who we know already. The other is a new agent named Rorth Vichea.”

“Hey, I remember him!” Lehana said. “With the eye, right?” She thought for a second, then added, “Well...without the eye, I should say.”

Genji nodded. “Yes, we watched over him before Overwatch fell. Apparently Winston kept in touch.”

“ _Another_ new person?” Ahote couldn’t help but ask. “Why?”

Genji replied, “Winston is quite familiar with Rorth, and has worked with him in the past. He said that we will need Rorth’s expertise with omnics to successfully do this.” When Ahote nodded and didn’t argue further, Genji continued, “They are bringing tools to help us disable the god program permanently--or at least take it out of the Shimadas’ reach.”

“When are they getting here?” Lúcio asked.

“Tomorrow, most likely,” Genji said. “I will pick them up from the airport.”

“On your own?” Ahote asked. “Isn’t that a little...dangerous? Considering, you know, what just happened.”

Genji shrugged a shoulder. “I only need two seats,” he said. “Whoever wants to come can come.”

Ahote nodded. He wanted to go--he felt like he was going stir crazy already, sitting in that motel and just watching and waiting. There would be plenty of time to ask later, though.

“What are they bringing to deal with Orochi?” Hanzo asked.

Genji shrugged a shoulder. “Winston didn’t say,” he said. “Whatever it is, though, it _will_ work. I am sure of it.”

Hanzo snorted. “Optimistic of you,” he muttered. “And if it doesn’t?”

Genji shrugged. “Plan B.”

“I think at this point, we’re on plan D,” Lehana said.

“Aw, give us some credit, Rookie,” McCree said. He seemed a little more awake. “Th’ only part that wasn’t planned was the Talon attack. We’re on plan B.”

“Are there any more questions?” Genji asked. “If not, this meeting is over.” When nobody said anything, Genji nodded. “I am going shopping--for food and clothes. Anyone is welcome to come.”

“Yesss!” Lehana cheered, shooting up from her bed. “I need some new stuff!”

“Y’brought’cher whole damn closet, Rookie,” McCree said in disbelief. “How can y’need _more_ clothes?”

“I don’t wanna hear it from _you_ , Mister ‘I forgot my sneaking sarape!’” Lehana argued, jabbing a finger at McCree. “I need more Coco Puffs, anyway.”

“There ain’t no way in Hell they got Coco Puffs here,” McCree said. “I guarantee.”

“They’ll have _something_ like it!” Lehana argued. “Tokyo Puffs?”

“That just sounds nasty,” McCree said.

Ahote stepped to the door as Lúcio suggested, “What about Lúcio-Ohs?”

“I still stand by that being the _worst_ missed opportunity,” Lehana said. “And I refuse to endorse--”

Ahote closed the door behind him then, drowning out the noise. He walked to the balcony, taking a deep breath as he looked down at the street. It was still raining, though it was beginning to lighten up. Ahote felt a pinch in his arm and smacked at it with his hand, glancing down afterwards to confirm it was a mosquito.

He felt calmer with a plan. Calmer, but not content. He still felt like he was being watched from around every corner, like at any moment, someone would jump out at him and try to attack him.

He could only hope his paranoia wouldn’t last the rest of the mission.


	11. Concern

Ahote didn’t sleep much that night, either. He tried, of course; he slept on Lúcio’s bed, curled up on his side, with his back to Lúcio. He knew he could trust Lúcio, but he wasn’t used to having someone in the same bed as him. Every time Lúcio shifted, he could feel it. Even when Lúcio wasn’t moving, Ahote could feel him, almost like a nagging reminder that he was forgetting something, but couldn’t figure out what.

Ahote tried to sleep, but he couldn’t find it in him. His eyes were heavy, but wouldn’t remain closed. The bed was (relatively) soft, and the temperature was comfortable, but he still felt like pacing. He kept his eyes trained on the small window, covered by a thin curtain. He lay there, unmoving, as he watched faint shadows walk past every so often.

Near dawn, he might’ve fallen asleep for about twenty minutes. When he next opened his eyes, he felt like a wreck. He rolled over onto his back and stared at the ceiling. When he heard Genji sit up, he turned his head to watch him, bored of watching static things all night.

Genji was facing the wall, his back to Ahote. He wasn’t wearing a shirt--not that it much mattered. The only bit of skin showing was part of his back and his left arm, the rest covered in cybernetics. Genji stretched after a moment, a soft yawn escaping him, before he stood up, reaching up to scratch at his messy hair. He stepped into the bathroom, out of Ahote’s line of sight.

Ahote stared at the door, thinking about nothing, for what he thought felt like a few minutes. When Genji stepped back out, however, his hair was shiny with water, and he had a clean shirt (sky blue, with a peace sign made out of robotic cogs and wheels on the front) pulled on.

Ahote furrowed his brow. That was a quick shower--particularly for Genji. He sat up, shaking the confusion from his mind as he pressed at a tired eye with the heel of his palm.

“You’re awake,” Genji said softly.

Ahote glanced over at him, rubbing at his other eye before he blinked both of them open. “Yep,” he muttered, sliding his legs off the covers and setting his feet on the floor.

“You look exhausted,” Genji commented. He sat on his own bed, across from Ahote. “Did you sleep?”

Ahote shrugged a shoulder. “A little,” he said. “When are you heading out to get Elisa and…?” He furrowed his brow, struggling to remember the name.

“Rorth,” Genji supplied. “They are landing sometime around ten.”

Ahote nodded, glancing at the clock on the wall. It was eight--Genji would probably be leaving shortly. “Can I come with you?” he asked, shifting on the bed uneasily, before he remembered he wasn’t the only one on it. He stopped, glancing back at Lúcio--still asleep, sheets twisting around his legs like a white snake.

“I do not think that is a good idea,” Genji said. “You need to rest.”

Ahote frowned as his gaze landed on Genji again. “I’m fine,” he said. “I can go pick some people up from the airport.”

“We will be very busy when they get here,” Genji said. “I do not think you are in any condition to try and attack the omnium right now. You must rest.”

Ahote shook his head. He could hear the exasperation in his voice as he said, “No, I’m alright. I can go, Genji. I can handle this.”

Genji stared at Ahote for a moment, thinking. “Ahote,” he said quietly after a moment, leaning forward, “you are exhausted. You must take care of yourself--”

“I keep hearing that,” Ahote said, shooting to his feet and pacing. “But I am! I’m eating, I’m at least _trying_ to sleep. Isn’t that enough?”

“Trying to sleep and actually sleeping are two different things,” Genji said. “Why can you not sleep, Ahote?”

Ahote snorted, crossing his arms as he stopped at the foot of Lúcio’s bed. “If I knew _that_ , then this wouldn’t be an issue,” he said scathingly--though he wasn’t sure if he was scorning Genji or himself.

Their discussion was interrupted when Lúcio let out a sleepy groan. Ahote looked over at him, meeting his gaze.

“Uh,” Lúcio said, glancing between Ahote and Genji. “Morning…?”

Ahote inclined his head toward Lúcio as Genji said, “Good morning, Lúcio.”

“Is...something wrong?” Lúcio asked, slowly pushing himself up, until he was sitting. “You two don’t look very _good morning_ right now.”

Ahote didn’t miss Genji looking at him. Ahote huffed a sigh out of his nose, looking at the curtain-covered window. “No,” he said. “Nothing’s wrong.”

“You do know that’s not convincing at all, right?” Lúcio asked. When Ahote glanced sharply at him, he held up his hands in surrender. “Hey, I’m just making sure.”

Ahote rubbed a hand over his tired face when there was a knock at the door. He walked over to it, as he was the only one standing, and peered through the peephole. McCree was on the other side, wearing a buttoned-up flannel tucked into jeans, and his cowboy boots. Ahote weighed the pros and cons of opening the door as he unlocked it and turned the knob.

When McCree saw Ahote, he raised a brow. “ _You_ look awful,” he commented.

“Good morning to you, too,” Ahote grumbled. He opened the door wider. “Here to talk to Genji?”

McCree breezed past him. “Nico’s callin’ a group meetin’ in yer room,” he said, loudly enough so the others could hear. “Know what that’s about?”

“No idea,” Genji said, still sitting on his bed. When McCree stopped next to the dresser, Ahote brushed past him to sit on his own bed, next to Lúcio.

“Sounded mighty important,” McCree said. “Looked nervous, too.”

“Maybe he’ll tell us who he’s spilling info to,” Ahote grumbled, only half paying attention, his mind registering the statement too late.

“What?” McCree asked, blinking at Ahote.

Ahote blinked at McCree in return, but was saved from responding by another knock at the door.

McCree glanced at the others before he sighed. He grumbled as he made his way over to the door and opened it. “Oh, Nico,” his voice carried from the doorway. “Glad y’could make it.”

“I would not miss my own meeting,” Nicola chuckled. He sounded a little nervous to Ahote.

When McCree stepped back into the room, Nicola came right after him, followed by Lehana and Hanzo. Lehana was still in her pajamas--short shorts and a red T-shirt that read _THANK GOD IT’S FRIDAY_. She didn’t hesitate before sitting on the corner of Genji’s bed, hugging her knees to her chest.

“Is there any reason you decided to wake us up so early, Nico?” she asked.

“It ain’t _that_ early, Rookie,” McCree said, settling on the corner adjacent to Lehana.

“You’re _always_ up at the crack of dawn,” Lehana argued. “I need at least two more hours for my beauty sleep.”

“Maybe if you let him speak, you will be able to get back to sleep more quickly,” Hanzo said stiffly. His arms were crossed, and he was standing off to the side. He looked ready to bolt out the door.

Ahote continued staring at Hanzo for a few seconds, nothing running through his head. When Nicola said Ahote’s name, however, he snapped back to attention, sweeping his gaze to Nicola as he shook his head, trying to clear it.

“...caught me speaking to a colleague the other night, well,” Nicola said, standing in the front of the room, his hands fidgeting in front of him, “I knew I would have to confess.”

“It’s okay, Nico,” Lehana sighed. “We all know you love me. Can I go back to bed now?”

Nicola chuckled. “Alas, bella, that is not the type of confession I had in mind.” He fell silent, but when nobody else spoke, he coughed a little. “I, ah, work for an organization called the Omnic Private Protection Firm.”

“The omnic mafia,” McCree said flatly. “You’re workin’ fer th’ omnic mafia.”

“Ah,” Nicola said with a grimace, “that name is...not flattering. But yes, I do.”

Ahote frowned, reaching up to rub his forehead. He’d heard of the OPPF while working in Talon. From what he could distantly remember, the two organizations didn’t get along; the OPPF, as the name suggested, tried to protect, while Talon tried to create conflict. Ahote was sure he’d fought against them before, though he couldn’t quite remember at that moment.

“If you work for this mafia,” Hanzo slowly said, “then why are you here, with Overwatch?”

Nicola considered for a moment before he answered. “To...keep an eye on it, essentially,” he said. “On all of you. We had to know whether you would become a threat, or an ally.”

“‘N’ if we didn’t pass yer lil’ test?” McCree asked. “What would you’ve done?”

Nicola shrugged. “Does it matter?” he asked. “You passed. Is that not what is important here?”

“Humor me,” McCree said, his arms crossed.

Nicola waved a hand. “One of our superiors nullified any plans of post-operational conflict if our interests did not align. We would have left you alone.”

“Awful kind of ‘em,” McCree grumbled. “D’ya know why?”

Nicola shrugged. “If I had to make a guess, I would say they did not believe it would be prudent to start a war with you all.”

Ahote frowned, glancing behind him as his ear started ringing. He reached up to rub at it irritably as Genji said, “I assume your duties include reporting back to your superiors every so often.”

Nicola nodded. “Yes,” he confirmed. “That is who I was speaking to when Ahote, ah, overheard me the other night.”

Genji nodded as the ringing in Ahote’s ear subsided. “Thank you for telling us,” Genji said. “You did not have to.”

Nicola shrugged a shoulder. “It did not feel right keeping it a secret forever,” he said. “I can trust you all, yes?”

“‘Course, man,” Lúcio said. He leaned forward a little, jostling Ahote’s arm. Ahote snatched his arm away and rested it against a knee. “We’re here for you, dirty secrets and all.”

Nicola snickered. “That is a relief,” he said. “That is all I wished to share with you. If you are not going to kick me out, then this meeting is over.”

McCree snorted. “Least yer not sharin’ secrets with th’enemy,” he said as he stood from the bed. He said something else, but Ahote stopped listening, staring down at his hands thoughtlessly.

Ahote came to when Lúcio stood from the bed. Ahote shook his head, looking up at the room. Everyone else was gone--even Genji.

“...breakfast,” Lúcio was in the middle of saying.

Ahote took a moment to reach up and rub his forehead before he looked at Lúcio. “Sorry,” he mumbled, “what? Where did everyone go?”

Lúcio frowned at Ahote. He’d been stretching, but he dropped his arms as he said slowly, “Back to their rooms.”

“Genji?” Ahote asked.

Lúcio shrugged a shoulder. “He said he wanted to talk to Hanzo,” he said, taking a few steps closer to Ahote. “Are you okay, man?”

Ahote nodded, standing from the bed. “Yeah,” he said. “I’m fine. Just a little….” He trailed off, looking at the ground as he searched for the right word. Eventually, he forgot what he’d been thinking about, and just kept staring at the ground.

“Just a little…?” Lúcio prompted.

Ahote blinked, looking back up at Lúcio quickly. “Huh?” he asked. “Just a little what?”

Lúcio stared at Ahote for a moment before he shook his head. “Sit down,” he said, reaching up to press on Ahote’s shoulder. “You’re exhausted.”

Ahote leaned his shoulder back to avoid Lúcio’s hand, though he did sit down. “I’m fine,” he insisted.

“I’ve heard _that_ one before,” Lúcio grumbled, leaning down a little to look in Ahote’s eyes.

Lúcio was close--Ahote could see each individual eyelash, if he focused hard enough. His cheeks warmed, and he looked to the side. “What are you doing?” he asked.

“Medical stuff,” Lúcio replied. He took a step back, sitting on Genji’s bed. Ahote had to swallow his sigh of relief as he looked back at Lúcio, who continued, “Did you sleep last night?”

Ahote shrugged a shoulder. “A little.”

“How much is a little?”

“Uhh,” Ahote said with a frown, looking up at the ceiling as he thought. “Twenty minutes, maybe?”

Lúcio sighed. When Ahote looked back at him, he was covering his face with his hands. “You’re a mess,” he muttered. “Did this happen back in Gibraltar, too?”

Ahote shrugged a shoulder. When Lúcio frowned at that, Ahote said, “Sometimes? Some nights were easier to sleep on than others.”

Lúcio rested his head in his hand, still frowning deeply at Ahote. “Something’s bothering you,” he asserted.

Ahote snorted, standing up. “I think something’s bothering all of us,” he said, stepping to the foot of the bed to start pacing. “God program, remember? Potential end of the world?”

“You slept better before Talon attacked,” Lúcio said. “And you were less jumpy.”

Ahote stopped pacing, if only to keep from proving Lúcio’s point, before he crossed his arms. He stared at Lúcio as he asked, “Is that especially surprising?”

“Ahote,” Lúcio said, standing up, “I just want to help, but I can’t if you--”

“There’s nothing to help,” Ahote said sharply. “You can’t _fix_ me, Lúcio.”

“I’m not trying to,” Lúcio said, frowning at Ahote. He sounded offended at that. Ahote felt a flush of shame, but it was quickly burnt by the frustration running through his veins. “I’m trying to make it easier, man. I’m trying to make it better for you, but--”

“It’s fine,” Ahote said, pacing again. “ _I’m_ fine. I’ll survive. I’ve gone through worse than this.”

“That’s the point,” Lúcio said, voice heated. “You shouldn’t have to just _survive_ , you know? It shouldn’t be barely tolerable. You--”

He stopped as the door creaked open. Ahote looked at the intruder, his arms still crossed. Genji peeked his head around the door, looking between Ahote and Lúcio with wide eyes, before he pointed behind him with his thumb. “I can come back,” he offered. It sounded a little pleading, if Ahote was being honest.

“It’s fine,” Ahote said, sending a sharp glance towards Lúcio. “I was just about to get some fresh air, anyway.”

“We’re not done here,” Lúcio said.

Ahote didn’t reply as he walked towards the door--what would he say? Genji stepped into the hallway, quickly pressing himself against the wall so Ahote could walk outside and close the door behind him.

It was warm; it wasn’t too warm, but it was hot enough to be a little uncomfortable. The heat clogged Ahote’s lungs, making him feel lethargic. He inhaled deeply and watched a mosquito lazily fly around as he stood in front of the door.

The longer he stayed in the heat, the more he felt like going inside and apologizing. He didn’t know what’d gotten into him. He knew Lúcio was just trying to help. Shame kept him from opening the door, though; he felt bad for picking a fight.

He scrubbed a hand over his face (already sticky with humidity) before he sat in one of the plastic chairs in front of the window. He stared at the street again, though he didn’t see it. Some distant part of him took note of the crowds of people walking along it, and he lazily watched whoever stepped into the parking lot, but he didn’t think too heavily on them.

Ahote blinked when Genji stepped in front of his view. “Genji?” he asked, glancing over his shoulder at the door. He hadn’t heard Genji come out.

“Ahote,” Genji greeted, sitting in a seat across from Ahote.

“Did you want something?” Ahote asked carefully, watching Genji closely.

“Not really,” Genji said with a shrug of his shoulder. “Just to talk.”

“About…?”

“I was curious how you felt about Nico’s confession,” Genji said. “You didn’t seem to trust him very much before.”

Ahote shook his head. “I didn’t,” he said. He rubbed an eye as he recalled the confession. Although it’d only been a few minutes ago, it was foggy in his memory. “It makes sense, at the very least. I doubt he’d work with Talon if he was working for one of their enemies, too.” He frowned. “Unless he’s lying.”

“You think he’s lying?” Genji asked.

“I dunno,” Ahote said, leaning back in his seat. “It’s not impossible.” He looked down at his hands. He was too tired to think hard about the possibility of Nicola lying--it made his head spin, just a little.

Genji hummed in thought before he stood up. He gently set a book on the table in front of Ahote--the book of poems he’d been reading a few days ago. Ahote furrowed his brow and looked up at Genji.

“I thought you wanted me to sleep,” he said.

Genji shrugged a shoulder. “Perhaps reading will lull you to sleep,” he said. “It’s a nice summer day. Try to enjoy it.”

Ahote wanted to tell Genji that he was plenty _tired_ , he just couldn’t sleep--but he thought it over and, with a grimace at the memory, decided not to have a repeat of his conversation with Lúcio.

“Thanks,” he muttered instead, reaching out to pick up the book and glance at the cover. It was boring, as far as books went--just plain blue with the title showcased in thin white letters. It was worn, as well; ragged and soft around the edges, in the way that only truly old books can be.

Genji walked over to the door, opened it, and stepped inside. At the soft click of the closing door, Ahote took a deep breath and opened to the page he’d left off on. He couldn’t focus on the sentences. He focused on each word individually, unable to connect them together. He stared at the word _midnight_ for three minutes, trying to make sense of it, before he realized he’d stopped reading. He barely understood the poems when he was fully cognizant; at that moment, it was like they were making a foul-tasting pot of soup in his mind. It took him half an hour to read four poems.

Words and lines and phrases and sentences swirled in his head. _I’m Nobody! Who are you?_ Ahote didn’t know if he could answer. _Are you - Nobody - too?_ He thought that sounded right. He wasn’t sure. He closed the book and tossed it on the table in front of him before it could confound him further.

He watched a mosquito buzz onto his hand before he flicked it off with a metallic finger. He sighed and stood up, grabbing the book. His argument with Lúcio was still nagging at his mind. He knew he wouldn’t feel better until he apologized.

He stepped in front of the door, before he remembered he’d left his wallet (with the keycard) in the nightstand. He sighed and knocked gently on the door.

Genji was the one that answered. He had a baseball cap on over his hair, the visor doing little to hide his face. He blinked at Ahote. “...You forgot your keycard again,” he guessed.

Ahote nodded, a little sheepish. “I did,” he said. “Are you going somewhere?”

Genji stepped to the side to let Ahote in with a nod. “I’m going to pick up Elisa and Rorth now,” he said. “I will get food on the way back.”

Ahote stepped inside, relieved once he escaped the heat. “Alright,” he said. “Is Lúcio going with you?”

“No,” Genji said.

Ahote was a little surprised, but he tried to mask it. “Oh,” he said. “Well, uh, be safe.”

“Thank you,” Genji said, inclining his head towards Ahote. “Get some sleep.”

“I’ll try,” Ahote replied. He watched Genji close the door behind him before he turned and walked further into the room. His gaze landed on Lúcio almost immediately, sitting on his bed with his phone in front of him.

They stared at one another for a good minute before Ahote inhaled, averting his gaze. “Is it too late to apologize?”

Lúcio snorted. When Ahote looked back at him, he had a grin on his face. “It hasn’t even been an hour, dude,” he said. “You don’t have to be so dramatic.”

“I’m just--I’m sorry,” Ahote said. “About how I acted. How I’ve _been_ acting.” He crossed his arms. “It’s just….” He hesitated, trying to find the right word. “...Different, I guess. Than what I’m used to.”

“It’s alright,” Lúcio said, his face growing serious. “I shouldn’t have been so pushy. I get you need your space--I’m just worried.”

Ahote tried to ignore the heat in his cheeks as he sat on Genji’s freshly-made bed, across from Lúcio. “I appreciate that,” Ahote said. “The concern, and the care, I do. I just don’t know how to….” He trailed off, searching for the right word again.

“Deal with it?” Lúcio supplied.

Ahote nodded.

Lúcio turned so he was facing Ahote. “It’s fine,” he said. “It’s gonna take more than you pushing me away to get me to call it quits, you know?”

Ahote nodded, looking down at his hands. “Thanks,” he muttered. He was glad Lúcio at least tried to understand, and tried to give him his space. Lúcio had probably just gotten frustrated, since Ahote wasn’t doing much to try and help himself.

Ahote took in a deep breath, deciding to go out on a limb--at least a little. “You, uh, were right, you know.”

“About what?” Lúcio asked.

Ahote looked back up at him. “Talon’s attack, bothering me. I’ve always had trouble sleeping, but they….” He stopped, looking down again. “I’m...worried.”

“You know we won’t let them hurt you, right?” Lúcio asked. “You’re still part of our team.”

“It’s not that,” Ahote said. “It’s--Kronos. The woman with the scythe.” He glanced up at Lúcio, who nodded for him to continue. “She was the one who….” He trailed off, the memories flashing in his mind. He didn’t have to tell the entire story--not yet, anyway. He coughed, starting over. “She was the one that forced me to join.”

Lúcio stayed silent, but Ahote continued anyway. “I think some of the higher-ups didn’t like that decision--thought I was a liability, maybe. Punished her, or threatened to punish her, or something. So she took it out on me, made sure I was tough.” Ahote clenched his hands into fists, staring unseeingly at the skirt of Lúcio’s bed. “She oversaw my training personally. If someone wasn’t pushing hard enough, she’d make sure they pushed twice as hard next time, or else. She didn’t want her _generosity_ ,” he spat out the word, “to be in vain.”

“Jeez,” Lúcio breathed. “That’s fucked.”

Ahote nodded. He took a moment to calm down and relax his hands. He eventually forgot what he’d been saying, and just kept staring at the floor.

“Ahote?” Lúcio prompted softly.

Ahote blinked, looking up at him. “What?” he asked.

“You were talking about Kronos,” Lúcio gently reminded.

Ahote nodded. “Right, yeah,” he said. He took a moment to remember where he’d left off, then continued, “After I left, she came looking for me--probably because they sent her to get me, I dunno. She found me on the highway in a forest. I ran, lost her in the woods, and haven’t seen her since.”

Lúcio was silent for a long moment. Ahote looked up at him, and saw a thoughtful frown on his face. Lúcio shook his head. “Sorry,” he said. “That’s--that’s awful. I see why she pissed you off so much.” He leaned forward a little. “Do you think she’s gonna try to...I dunno, mess with you?”

Ahote snorted. “Don’t see why not,” he muttered. “She’s been doing it for the past sixteen years.” He was silent for a moment, then sighed. “I dunno,” he answered truthfully. “That’s what makes this all so much worse. I have no idea what she plans on doing.”

“Well,” Lúcio said, “whatever she does, she won’t take you back. I can promise you that much.”

Ahote gave Lúcio a brief smile. Some part of him whispered that Lúcio couldn’t possibly stop her if she really wanted to take Ahote, but it comforted him, nonetheless. “Thanks, Lúcio,” he said. “That...makes me feel a lot better, actually.”

Lúcio grinned at him. “It’s amazing what can happen when you don’t try to handle everything on your own,” he said. “I’m here for you. Genji is, too. You’re not alone, Ahote.”

Ahote nodded, smiling again. “Yeah,” he said. “I think I’m finally starting to realize that.”

Lúcio continued grinning at him for a moment before he asked, “Now, are you gonna sleep? Genji told me to make you sleep, one way or another.”

Ahote chuckled a little. “I can try,” he said. “I can’t make any promises, though.”

“If it helps, I could let you listen to that lullaby again,” Lúcio offered.

“Lullaby?” Ahote asked, his brow furrowed.

Lúcio nodded. “Yeah! The song I had you listen to while I was patching you up in the other room, right after we got the Shimada info. It’s something new I’ve been working on, to help people chill out.”

Ahote frowned, furrowing his brow. “That was one of your...mood-songs?”

Lúcio shrugged. “Kind of. It’s all just science. I’m trying to not use it that often, but...you need some help. No offense.”

Ahote hesitated for a moment before he nodded. “Yeah,” he sighed. “You’re right.”

“Hey, acceptance is the first step on the road to recovery,” Lúcio said. He uncrossed his legs and stood up, stepping to his suitcase before digging through it. “Let me just find my earbuds….”

As Lúcio searched through his suitcase, Ahote moved to sit on their shared bed. He didn’t think Genji would appreciate his sheets being messed up any more than they were. After a moment, Lúcio held up a tangled green wire victoriously. “Aha!” he said, turning back to face Ahote. “Found ‘em.”

“Thank you for doing this,” Ahote said as Lúcio made his way over, connecting the wire to his phone.

“‘Course,” Lúcio said. He handed Ahote the earbuds as he tapped on his phone. “But, uh, this still isn’t finished yet, so...if you suddenly feel something other than sleepy, let me know.”

Ahote nodded. “It’s...safe, right?”

Lúcio snorted. “It’s music,” he said. “It won’t hurt you. Unless, you know, it’s too loud or something.” He set his phone on the end table. “Okay, go to sleep. I’ll be right here and make sure nothing happens.”

Ahote nodded. “Thanks, Lúcio,” he said. “For...uh, everything.”

Lúcio waved a hand as he sat on the other side of the bed, remote in hand. “No problem,” he said. “Goodnight.”

Ahote put the earbuds in his ears. He recognized the song, but it wasn’t intimately familiar. He felt its effects almost immediately, though; his already-heavy eyes drooped immediately, and his heart beat to the slow, steady rhythm. He stifled a yawn, laying on his back. He stared up at the ceiling for a moment, his hands resting on his stomach.

The song helped to block everything else out. Every time he closed his eyes, Ahote felt like he was drifting a little farther and farther away, out to sea. Eventually, he couldn’t keep his eyes open anymore, and let them stay shut. He still felt like he was drifting across the ocean, his mind bobbing gently along the waves as the music soothed any worries that cropped up.

He knew he still had reasons to be afraid and paranoid, but at that moment--with that song playing, and with Lúcio by his side--they didn’t matter. Eventually, Ahote drifted off into sleep.


	12. Plan

It was nighttime when Ahote woke up, Lúcio’s now-silent earbuds still in his ears. Ahote took in a deep breath before he opened his eyes. Moonlight slanted over the ceiling. There was nobody in the room with him.

He sat up, rubbing at his eyes. He felt refreshed, though waking up at night threw him off. He looked around the room; the television screen was black, and there was a white plastic bag on the dresser that hadn’t been there before. He pulled the earbuds out, grimacing at the popping noise. He glanced over his shoulder, and saw Lúcio’s phone still on the end table. When Ahote tried to turn it on to see the time, the screen remained black. It was probably dead.

Ahote ran a hand through his hair. It was a mess, and he could tell it was sticking everywhere. As he tried to fix it a little, his eyes landed on a sheet of paper on the other side of his bed. He picked it up with one hand, using the other to continue messing with his hair as he squinted at the message on the paper.

 _Food’s in the fridge,_ it read in blocky letters. _We’re in Jesse’s room._ It was signed as _Lúcio_. Under the signature, it read in large, angry letters, _DON’T_ _FORGET TO EAT!!! >:( _

Ahote snickered a little at the message, setting it down where he’d found it. His tongue still had a sleepy film that tasted vaguely like plastic covering it, which would likely mask any food he ate. Regardless, he decided to heed Lúcio’s warning.

Ahote stood up, crossing his arms as he looked around for a moment. He felt strangely tranquil in the small room. He stepped to the small fridge, squeezed in a small cubby under the television. In it, there was a small black bowl with a lid, next to a white cup. He pulled both out of the fridge before closing the door. The black bowl seemed to be a leafy salad with chicken in it, while the cup was some kind of...soup? The lid was foggy, so he couldn’t see inside very well, but the contents looked liquidy.

Ahote dug through the plastic bag on top of the dresser to find something to eat with, and was a little disappointed when he saw only one spoon.

 _At least now I can eat a spoon as possible,_ he thought with an amused smile as he sat on his bed, setting the food on the end table. He was a little too humored at his own joke as he ate the tomato soup. After he finished that, he tried to use the spoon to eat the salad, but it didn’t work out. He just used his fingers to make little lettuce-chicken tacos, and ate the salad like that.

He felt full after he finished. He set his garbage in the plastic bag, which he tossed in the trash can before he grabbed his wallet (with his keycard) from the end table. He hesitated when his eyes landed on Lúcio’s phone again, but he took a moment to plug its charger in before he stepped outside.

As soon as the warm blanket of heat from the outside air embraced him, it was like the spell of serenity over him shattered. His shoulders tensed, and he scanned the street for any potential attackers again. The clock across the street announced that it was _21:14_. He’d slept for about twelve hours--too long, he told himself. He felt refreshed, but he should’ve been up earlier.

As he ascended the steps to the second floor, he kept glancing warily behind him and at the parking lot. Once he reached the door to McCree’s room, he rapped at it quickly. He kept his eyes cast over his shoulder while he waited for it to open.

When the door opened, he looked forward again, and blinked when his gaze landed on Elisa. She looked well-rested, and had a giant grin on her face. “Ahote!” she said, moving aside to let him in. “It’s so good to see you again!”

Ahote gave her a smile as he stepped through the door. “It’s good to see you too,” he said, nodding at her. “Are you well?”

Elisa nodded. “Of course!” she said as she shut the door. “I’ve been cooped up in the Watchpoint for the past week! How are you feeling? I heard you were hurt some?” She frowned with concern at him, doubtfully eying the bandages peeking out of the shoulder of his shirt.

He shrugged a shoulder. “I’m fine,” he said. “It’ll take more than some Talon goons to take me out, huh?”

Elisa nodded. “I see that!”

She led him to the rest of the room, then. McCree was sitting on a bed, Lehana leaning, bored, against him, her legs crossed and one foot in the air. Genji was sitting on the corner of the same bed. Hanzo was standing next to the doorway, his arms crossed. Nicola was sitting on his own bed with Lúcio, leaning back on the palms of his hands. There was a man standing in the corner opposite of Ahote.

Ahote didn’t know the man standing in the opposite corner. His hair was steely blue, and mostly swept back save for a wedge of bangs that flipped over the right side of his forehead. His warm copper skin made his hair seem a little drab in comparison, but Ahote was far from a stylist. The man had dark blue eyes that were shining brightly, full of curiosity. He had a grin on his face that reminded Ahote of Nicola’s own grins, and a white shirt with blue sleeves that were pushed above his elbows.

He struck Ahote as a fake man--a pretender. Ahote eyed him warily as Elisa called, “Rorth!” Ahote felt like shrinking in on himself when everyone looked at Elisa, then at Ahote. He was just as horrified when Elisa continued, “This is Ahote!” She looked over her shoulder at Ahote, and tilted her head towards Rorth. “Ahote, this is Rorth.”

Rorth’s grin seemed to widen as his gaze landed on Ahote. “Ah!” he said, stepping forward to extend a hand to Ahote. “Ahote--I’ve heard about you! Namely that you were asleep when we showed up.”

“Sorry,” Ahote said, warily eying Rorth’s hand before taking it firmly and shaking it once. “I didn’t expect to sleep for so long,” he said, crossing his arms. He had to tilt his head up a little to look at Rorth in the eye.

“It’s no harm!” Rorth said, still standing in front of Ahote. “Lots of things happen during the night that make you lose track of time, yeah?” he chuckled.

“No,” Ahote deadpanned, staring at Rorth.

Rorth laughed nervously, stepping back to his corner. “Well,” he said. “That’s the entire crew, isn’t it?” he asked, looking over at Genji.

Genji nodded. “All that we have here, yes,” he said.

“What’s the plan?” Ahote asked. “Are we attacking the omnium tonight?”

Genji nodded. “If you are feeling up to it, then yes,” he said. “The plan is--would you care to explain again, Elisa?”

Elisa nodded. “Of course!” she chirped. She looked at Ahote as she said, “We came with two weapons--one is this.” She pulled a blue, glowing thumb drive out of her pocket. “It’s a thumb drive that will allow us to trap all of the god program’s core processes on it, so it can’t escape.” She shoved the drive back into her pocket as she continued, “The second is an electronic bomb. When we detonate it, it will fry all the electronics within the omnium permanently, so they can’t be turned back on, even though they’re not destroyed.”

“I don’t see why we can’t just blow it up regularly,” Lehana said. “That’s foolproof, right?”

“It’s expensive,” Elisa replied with a shrug. “It would probably destroy nearby structures--not to mention the attention. The UN loves to investigate strange explosions, yes?”

“Fair point,” Lehana grumbled.

“Why are we capturing the god program?” Ahote asked. “It could turn against us.”

“Security,” Rorth said. “The omnium works on a closed circuit, so as of now, the god program can’t access any other areas of the world. However, if we just try to blow up its main console, it could transfer to any omnic within its range. If we blow up the building, then, well, we come across the problems Elisa just mentioned.”

“On a thumb drive,” Elisa continued, “it’ll be harmless, and we’ll be able to conduct experiments.”

“Experiments,” Ahote repeated. When Elisa nodded, he said, “You do know that sounds like a terrible idea.”

“They’ll be controlled experiments!” Elisa defended. “We won’t be reckless, I assure you.”

“There will be time to debate what to do with the god program after we have it,” Rorth said. “For now, we have a plan to get it.”

“And how are we getting in?” Ahote asked. “We can’t just walk through the front door--I’m sure the god program will have defenses up.”

“Luckily,” Genji said, pulling out his phone, “Winston provided us with a floorplan of the omnium.” He set his phone on the bed, tapped at it, then leaned back as a hologram of a building projected from it. The building seemed plain to Ahote--large, if anything.

“We will have two teams,” Genji said as he pointed to the large front double doors. “One team will enter here, and draw most of Orochi’s attention. The other will enter here,” he pulled his hand back to point at a small door in the back of the building, “and make its way to the core of the omnium--here.” He pointed at a moderately-sized room near the center of the building. “There, someone will set up the bomb, extract Orochi, and they will make their way to the first group, before we escape together and meet back here.”

Ahote nodded, gnawing on his bottom lip as he stared at the building. As far as plans went, that one was fairly good. It had enough wiggle room for when things inevitably went wrong, and ensured that Orochi wouldn’t be able to concentrate its forces on them.

“That’ll work,” Ahote mumbled.

“Well,” McCree drawled, “since we’ve got Sleep’n Beauty’s approval, who’s goin’ on which team, Genji?”

“We have nine people now,” Genji said. “We will want a smaller team to go in through the back, so they are not detected--so only four will be heading to the core. Those four will have to be good at sneaking.”

“Count me out,” Lehana said, picking at her fingernails. “Dibs on Team Bait.”

“Ditto,” Lúcio said. “Music isn’t really a stealth thing.”

“I will go with the second team,” Hanzo said.

“I’ll go with them, too,” Ahote said quickly, glancing at Hanzo. He didn’t trust the archer very much, still; he was too quiet.

“Same here,” McCree said.

“What about your sneaking sarape?” Lehana mocked.

“I don’t need a sneakin’ sarape t’capture a god program,” McCree replied. “‘Sides, someone’s gotta keep the new recruits in check.”

“And I’m sure this has nothing to do with the fact that you think I led Talon to us,” Ahote said flatly, staring at McCree.

“If y’really didn’t, then this won’t be a problem, will it?” McCree challenged, meeting Ahote’s stare.

Ahote ground his teeth as he kept his gaze trained on McCree, but Genji interrupted. “Elisa or Rorth should be the fourth member,” he said. “To ensure everything is done correctly.”

“I can go!” Elisa volunteered. “It’s all quite simple, so I’ll be able to do everything quickly.”

“Implying I can’t?” Rorth asked. “I’m hurt, Elisa.”

“Well, a degree is good for some things,” Elisa said. “Like doing things efficiently, without mistakes. Timed exams, yes?”

“Oh, this again,” Rorth grumbled. “Listen, a degree isn’t _everything_ \--”

“I am sure you both would do great jobs,” Genji said quickly, “but as Elisa volunteered first, she will be going with the second team.”

Rorth nodded. “Yeah, alright,” he said. “I can live with that.”

“Then it is settled,” Genji said. “Elisa will sneak in through the back with Hanzo, Ahote, and Jesse, while the rest of us create a distraction in the front.”

“I would appreciate it if the distraction is significantly less explosive this time,” Nicola said, with a pointed glance at Lehana.

“Hey, I had it under control!” Lehana argued, leaning up from McCree’s shoulder to twist her head around to look at Nicola. “Someone would’ve died if Ol’ Razer hadn’t exploded!”

“Since Ahote is awake now,” Genji cut in abruptly, ending the argument, “we may start getting ready now. Unless anyone else has any questions…?”

When nobody said anything, everyone (save for Nicola and McCree) quickly filed out of the room. Once they were on the balcony, Ahote asked Elisa, “Who are you staying with?”

Elisa motioned down the line of doors. “Oh, with Rorth!” she said. “We figured there wouldn’t be a lot of space with you all, so we went ahead and rented a room together.”

Ahote nodded, doubtfully watching Rorth walk down the balcony. “Be...careful,” he told Elisa, looking back down at her.

Elisa frowned at him a moment. “I appreciate the concern,” she began, “but Rorth is trustworthy. Usually. His work could do with some improvements, but he means well.”

Ahote nodded skeptically. “If you say so,” he said, glancing back up at the man in question. “I’m gonna go get ready now.”

“Okay!” Elisa said, giving him a bright grin. “I’m so excited!”

Ahote flashed a polite smile at her before he made his way to his own room. He knew he should’ve told her to calm down, that she had to focus, but...he didn’t want to crush her enthusiasm.

When Ahote stepped into his room, Genji was nowhere to be seen. Ahote assumed he was in the bathroom, getting his combat suit on. Lúcio was sitting on his bed, pulling on his skates with practiced ease.

Ahote stopped in front of the closet, staring at his suitcase. His usual uniform was damaged and bloodstained--he knew he shouldn’t use it, but he had no idea what else he’d wear.

He dug through his suitcase, scowling as he searched. Something to cover his skin, in case Kronos made a return. He wished he had gloves. His shield was undamaged, thankfully; if he couldn’t use _that_ against her, he was sure he’d be beaten again.

He finally settled on just pulling on a dark blue sweater with the Overwatch symbol on a sleeve before he turned around. Genji still wasn’t out of the bathroom, though Lúcio was sitting on his bed, scrolling through his phone.

“What do you think of Rorth?” Ahote asked, feeling just a little more anxious than he knew he should’ve. He crossed his arms. Talking with Lúcio would help ease his tension, he was sure--it usually did.

Lúcio shrugged, looking up at Ahote. “He’s a nice guy,” he said. “Little touchy-feely, but he’s fine.”

“He touched you?” Ahote asked, trying not to sound too concerned.

“Nah,” Lúcio said, waving a hand. “Well, not outside of a handshake, anyway. He seemed touchier with Elisa, but that makes sense, considering he’s known her a little longer than he’s known us.”

Ahote nodded, a little relieved (much to his confusion). “Right,” he said. “I’ll have to watch out for that, then.”

“He isn’t a bad guy,” Lúcio said, setting his phone to the side. “We played some games while you were asleep. He was fun to hang out with.”

Ahote thought about his response for a moment. He could’ve said many spies are easy to get along with, but that would’ve led to another argument, he knew. He didn’t want to argue, so he instead grumbled, “...Right. Sorry I overslept.”

“Don’t sweat it,” Lúcio said. “I almost woke you up, but...you were _out_ , man. Like a light. Snoring and everything.”

Ahote scoffed. “I don’t snore.”

“You did!” Lúcio insisted. “Not loud, you know, but you still snored.”

“Deep breathing doesn’t count as snoring.”

“Yeah, it does. That’s all snoring is!” Lúcio laughed. “You’re in denial.”

“I’m not,” Ahote denied. “Because I don’t snore.”

“Aw, you don’t have to be so embarrassed, Aho,” Lúcio said, a big, teasing grin on his face. “It was kinda cute!”

Ahote sharply averted his gaze as he felt heat rush to his cheeks. He was saved from having to respond when the door to the bathroom creaked open and Genji stepped out, clad in his ivory, metallic suit.

“Ready?” Genji asked.

Ahote nodded, relief cooling his cheeks, as Lúcio stood up. “Ready to go!” Lúcio said. “Let’s kick some god program butt!”

Ahote snickered a little as he followed Lúcio and Genji out of the room. He hoped everything would go according to plan--though, deep down, he knew it wouldn’t.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter, aaa!! The next one will be lots longer, I promise. Just an update that Rorth Vichea belongs to my friend danny, who can be found at mccreesboots.tumblr.com!! We're almost to the end of the introduction of OCs!! just uh.......one more ? to go! (that i'm sure of anyway, lol)


	13. Omnium

The omnium loomed in front of Ahote, intimidating in the moonlight. It looked significantly more daunting in real life than it had in the hologram; cameras surrounded it, and it had lights gently humming around its walls. A steady rain had started, though it did nothing to mitigate the warm summer air.

Ahote was pleased he’d brought a hoodie, as the raindrops pelted his drawn hood. His companions didn’t look as lucky, though; McCree pouted under his drenched cowboy hat, a doused cigarillo pinched stubbornly between his lips. Hanzo’s arms were crossed, though Ahote could tell it was to try and fight against the water spattering against his exposed skin. Ahote doubted the wisdom of baring half of one’s chest in the first place, but Hanzo was his own man. Elisa looked the least weary, the silver body armor covering her outfit glowing and humming with energy.

“In position,” Genji’s voice crackled over the comms.

“‘Bout time,” McCree said. “We’re drownin’ here.”

“Sorry,” Genji said. “We will enter the omnium now. Wait a few minutes before you go in.”

“Understood,” Ahote said.

“Good luck, everyone!” Lúcio called. “Just stay focused and we’ll get out of here quick! We’re gonna do great!”

Nobody replied. Ahote imagined the other group was charging into the omnium, guns a-blazing. He was worried; he was sure they would meet more than omnic resistance in the omnium, but he wished he’d had time to scout the building, at least a little. He regretted his long nap, once again. If he’d woken up earlier, he would’ve had time.

“They gotta be gettin’ some action by now,” McCree said. “Let’s go in.”

“Not yet,” Elisa replied. “It hasn’t been long enough.”

“C’mon, ‘Lisa,” McCree said. “I’m wetter’n a drunk in a bar. We can at least go _in_.”

“Call me Packet!” Elisa scolded. “We’re in the field! And we should be fine now--let’s go!”

McCree huffed as Elisa moved forward. Ahote took several large strides forward, getting in front of Elisa. At her questioning glance, he whispered, “Shield, yeah?”

“We shouldn’t meet resistance so soon,” Elisa whispered back.

“We’ll see,” Ahote muttered, his gaze trained on the door in front of them. Once he was in front of it, he activated his shield. The blue-tinted hard light grew in front of him to its full height before he carefully swung the door open.

The omnium was dark and silent. Ahote slowly stepped inside, eyes wide as he peered through his shield. McCree’s spurs jingled ominously through the large room. There were large, dark silhouettes--probably offline machines and the like.

“We need to go to the right and find a staircase,” Elisa said quietly. “The core is four floors abo--”

Elisa cut off as a robotic voice echoed through the room. “INTRUDERS,” it said loudly. Ahote whirled around, nearly slipping on the water pooling under him. He tried to pinpoint where the voice was coming from, but it seemed to be surrounding them. “YOU ARE DANGERS TO OROCHI. YOU WILL BE ELIMINATED.”

Rapid gunfire filled the room then, along with the flashing of guns being shot. There were three points of fire; Ahote swept Elisa behind him, shielding her from the bullets as McCree and Hanzo jumped into action.

Hanzo strafed away from Ahote and Eliza quickly, pulling an arrow out of his quiver and nocking it. He aimed it at one of the attackers, squinting narrowly through the darkness, until he let the arrow fly. It whizzed away, before it embedded itself in something that emitted a low beep before crashing to the ground.

McCree rolled to the side, avoiding a nasty spray of bullets, if the resounding ricochets were any hint. He pointed his pistol at one of the attackers, firing until that attacker let out a shrill beep and crashed to the ground.

“Ha-hah!” McCree chuckled, turning to the next attacker. “Take that, y’bucket o’ bolts!”

“One left!” Ahote called, blocking a steady stream of bullets. He grimaced, glancing at the energy levels for his shield on his wrist. They were low. He’d have to--

The machine fire suddenly stopped as the attacker let out a low beep and crashed to the ground. Ahote frowned, stepping closer and shining light from his robotic hand on the attacker--an omnic. It had an arrow sticking out of its head. Ahote’s light flashed over the omnic’s gun, revealing a bright white symbol. Ahote frowned, focusing the light on the symbol--two dragons, chasing each other around a circle.

“That is the Shimada symbol,” Hanzo said, from behind Ahote. “They have Shimada guns.”

“Explains why an offline omnium’s got so much firepower,” McCree said.

At the sound of metallic footsteps rushing towards them, Ahote snapped his head up and peered through squinted eyes towards the sound. “Go,” he said. “Quick. The god program knows we’re here.”

Elisa took off running, Hanzo and McCree right behind her. Ahote followed them, continuously throwing glances over his shoulder at their pursuers, ready to deflect any bullets.

“Genji!” Elisa panted into her comm as they ascended some stairs. “We’ve been found! It knows we’re here!”

Genji was silent for a moment--fighting, Ahote assumed--before his voice crackled over the comms, “That was quick. Are you able to--”

“We can keep going,” Elisa reassured as they reached the second floor. “We’re not hurt, and the omnics are only behind us.”

“Move quickly, move safely,” Genji replied. “We will attract as many as we can.”

“‘Preciate it!” McCree said.

Ahote glanced over the rail, down the stairwell. There were many omnics chasing after them; he assumed they’d chase them all the way to the core. His mind tried to scramble for a plan as they pounded up the steps. As they reached the third floor, Ahote’s legs were beginning to burn.

Either they were slowing down, or the omnics were speeding up. Ahote could hear their feet slamming against the stairs more clearly; they were getting closer.

“Almost there?” McCree asked, huffing loudly. “These ol’ bones weren’ built fer--”

“Save your breath,” Hanzo puffed scathingly.

“We’re here!” Elisa panted before McCree could get a chance to retort. She stumbled into a door and pushed her way through it, holding it open for the others to wearily step through.

“We should barricade this,” Ahote said, looking at the door as it closed.

“There is no time,” Hanzo said. “We must reach the core. We can defend there.”

Ahote nodded--Hanzo was right; there would likely be much more defensible positions there if the omnics caught up, and besides, they’d be closer to the objective.

“Best get truckin’, then,” McCree said.

Elisa hurried down the hallway, Ahote and the other two jogging after her. She turned corners sharply, looking at a hologram projecting from her phone and muttering to herself. Eventually, she came to a stop in front of a small, nondescript door. “This is it,” she sighed. “The core.”

“Let’s get inside,” Ahote said quickly, casting a glance over his shoulder. He could still hear the omnics running after them. As Elisa opened the door, Ahote saw the omnics round the corner--they weren’t an army, thankfully, but a decent-sized pack. Ahote counted about ten of them.

“Hell,” McCree spat as he rushed into the core, Hanzo rushing in after him. “They caught up.”

Ahote turned to face the omnics, activating his shield. “I’ll deal with them,” he said, glancing at the others. “Go--start the process.”

“You can’t--” Elisa tried to argue, but she stopped as the omnics opened fire.

Ahote grimaced as the bullets pounded into his shield. Its energy was depleting fast. “Go!” he shouted. “There’s no time to argue!”

The others seemed to get the message then. They rushed farther into the room as Ahote looked at the omnics again. They seemed content to stand at the edge of the hallway and just rain bullets upon him; he’d have to approach them himself.

He ran toward the pack of omnics, his shield blocking against the bullets. Once Ahote reached the robots, however, his shield disappeared, out of energy. Luckily, they stopped firing once he was within arm range; Ahote guessed they didn’t like their guns very much. Or they were conserving ammo.

One of the omnics in front swung a punch at Ahote. He ducked under it, thrusting his prosthetic hand up into the omnic’s face and firing off a laser. The omnic let out a sad beep and crumpled, but Ahote ignored it, his laser still firing. He aimed it at the head of another omnic, which reacted similarly to the first. He mowed down a third omnic like that, but his prosthetic started chirping--it was overheating. He pulled the arm back, halting the tide of the laser.

Ahote let out a pained gasp when he felt something metallic slam against his uninjured side. He whirled around to face the omnic that’d hit him, narrowly dodging another punch. While the omnic’s hand was extended, Ahote grabbed it by the arm, using its forward momentum to throw it into the crowd of omnics. Some of them fell to the ground under the weight of their compatriot.

Ahote didn’t get to capitalize on their misfortune, however; out of the corner of his eye, he caught an omnic trying to work its way behind him. He whirled around and sweeped his prosthetic leg under the omnic’s feet, sending it sprawling to the ground with a loud clang. Ahote’s arm beeped, and he pointed it at the omnic’s head, a laser shooting out and frying it.

Ahote turned around, focusing the laser at another omnic, which fell to the ground with a beep. Ahote downed two more omnics before his arm gave a chirp, but he grit his teeth and forced the laser to kill one more before he stopped it, pulling his arm back.

While Ahote was pulling his arm back, something rocketed against his jaw, slamming him into the wall. He groaned, turning his head to look at the omnic that’d attacked him. His jaw ached, but he pushed himself off the wall, facing the omnic fully. It was walking closer, probably for another punch, but Ahote tried to kick it away. It grabbed his leg while it was extended, using it to pull Ahote forward and throw him on the pile of omnic bodies.

Ahote let out a cry as he felt something sharp pierce his back. He didn’t have time to worry about it, though, as the second remaining omnic hefted its gun, aimed at Ahote. He managed to pull his shield up just as the omnic fired. Ahote grit his teeth, mind whirling as he watched the energy on his shield deplete. If he could get up--

Another gunshot rang through the hall, louder than the constant gunfire of the omnic. The robot that’d thrown Ahote to the floor let out a sad beep before it fell to the ground. The last remaining omnic stopped firing, looking up before another loud gunshot rang out. A bullet whizzed into the omnic’s face, and it let out a broken beep before crumpling.

Ahote sat up quickly, wincing as whatever impaled his back was ripped out. McCree stood at the door to the core, the barrel of his pistol smoking.

“Y’good?” McCree asked.

Ahote nodded as he stood; the wound in his back was small. He’d still be able to fight. “Thanks,” he muttered as he made his way to McCree. “How is it in there?”

“Couple’a bots,” McCree said, following Ahote through the door and closing it behind him. “Quiet otherwise. Reckon that’ll change soon, though.”

The room was cavernous. There was a large computer in the center, built into a pillar that reached about two stories up and supported the ceiling. Wires ran up the pillar like snakes. The computer had several large monitors (the only light source for the room) and a silver desk, both encircling the pillar. The monitors were glowing red, flashing the word _DANGER_ across them. Elisa was standing at the desk, furiously typing away at one of the keyboards as she stared up at a monitor. The one she was staring at was red like the rest, though it seemed like it had actual information on it.

There were several catwalks up in the air, with ladders to get up to them. Ahote saw a silhouette on one, and his heart jumped until he saw a bow--Hanzo. There were several other doors throughout the room, and about twenty omnic bodies littered around. Small pods with omnics in them were sprinkled around the room; Ahote assumed they might’ve been for omnic personnel when the omnium was functioning. The omnics seemed to be dormant.

“How’s it goin’, ‘Lisa?” McCree asked as he and Ahote approached her.

“Not good,” she replied, eyes glued to the monitor above her. “There are so many firewalls! Not to mention I’m not even sure where the core processes are _located_ \--there’s so much junk in here. Nobody here knew how to organize.”

“What about the bomb?” Ahote asked.

“I’m focusing on getting Orochi right now,” Elisa said. “I don’t want the bomb to be detonated prematurely if I set it up now.”

“That’s a worry?” McCree asked.

“With so many bullets flying around?” Elisa replied. “Of course!”

Ahote turned around, squinting at the closed door he’d walk through. He reached up to press a finger to his earpiece. “Genji, we’re in the core,” he informed. “Packet’s just started looking for Orochi. This’ll take time.”

“Understood,” Genji said. “We are getting a lot of action here--you may have a quiet time.”

“C’mon, Genji,” McCree whined. “I didn’t count on bein’ _bored_ the whole time.”

“We could always pull out now!” Lehana said. “I could use a nap!”

“Focus,” Hanzo said. “This is no time for jokes.”

The comms went silent after that. Ahote shifted uneasily, glancing between the doors. Why weren’t there any omnics? Surely Orochi knew they were there.

“It’s quiet,” McCree grumbled.

“Don’t,” Ahote said.

“ _Too_ quiet,” McCree finished.

As if McCree had spoken a secret password, red lights on the pods holding the omnic personnel flashed on. The omnics sat up, their movements synchronized.

“Happy?” Ahote asked under his breath. The omnics started to climb out of their pods. An arrow whizzed down and impaled the head of the omnic in front of Ahote. It let out a sad chirp before it stopped moving, the red light in its eyes fading away.

Ahote ran to the next closest omnic, not wanting to give them a chance to attack. The omnic had one leg out of its pod as Ahote ran up and shot his laser at its head. The omnic fell on the side of its pod and slid the rest of the way out.

As Ahote sprinted to another omnic, he saw a door slam open out of the corner of his eye. Omnics began to stream into the room, guns hefted.

“Party’s here!” McCree bellowed. Omnics were marching in through the other doors, too.

An arrow pierced the head of the omnic Ahote was running towards, so he skidded to a stop. He turned to face the horde of omnics, then looked over his shoulder at Elisa. She was completely unprotected, still engrossed in the monitor before her. Ahote whirled on his heel and ran toward her, mind racing.

She needed some sort of barrier to block her--she couldn’t stand out in the open. Ahote glanced at one of the omnic personnel pods. They weren’t connected to the floor, as far as he could tell. If he could manage to push them together to form a shield for her, then….

He used a hand to help him leap over one. He turned to face the pod, then bent his knees and pushed against it with all his might. It scooted across the floor slowly, letting out a loud grinding noise as it moved towards Elisa. It weighed a ton, though; the wound in Ahote’s back was protesting, not to mention the still-healing injuries from his prior scuffles.

Gunfire from the omnics’ weapons rang through the room. Ahote hoped they weren’t shooting at him--he’d be an easy target--but the bullets whizzed past him. Several got close enough to scrape him, but luckily, no more than that happened. As he pushed the pod, he looked over the top to watch Elisa.

An omnic--one of the personnel bots--was lumbering towards her. It didn’t have a gun, but Ahote knew it could do some damage with its fists.

“Packet!” he shouted over the pod. “Look out!”

Elisa looked over her shoulder, jumping when she spotted the omnic. Ahote considered launching over the pod to help, but figured she could handle it as she turned to face the robot, pulling out her gun. She took a moment to aim carefully, one eye closed, before she pulled the trigger. Her first shot missed. Her second shot hit the omnic in the chest; it stumbled, though it kept moving. Her third shot hit it in the head, making it finally stop and fall.

“Thank you!” she called, turning back to the monitor.

The corner of the pod bumped against the pillar, so Ahote stopped pushing. He stood, the muscles in his arms aching a little. One side of Elisa was covered, but she would need both sides blocked to really concentrate. Ahote took a moment to breathe before he jogged over to the next pod.

He dropped his shoulder and threw his body weight against the pod, gritting his teeth through the pain and aches. It was more difficult this time; the pod scraped across the floor slowly, and Ahote couldn’t breathe in quickly enough. When he was about halfway to Elisa, he stopped pushing, limply leaning against the pod as he sucked in air.

After a few moments of breathing, Ahote started pushing again. He didn’t stop until the pod was in place, providing Elisa with cover on all sides. “Keep your head down,” he said, standing straight and watching Elisa. “We’ll buy you as much time as we can.”

Elisa nodded, her eyes still glued on the monitor. “Thank you, Ahote,” she said, grabbing the keyboard and sitting down with it in her lap. When she was out of sight, Ahote turned around to look back at the mob of omnics.

McCree was holding his own well enough; he kept dodging and rolling out of their reach, and shooting at the omnics that threatened gunfire. Hanzo, on the other side of the room, was using his bow to beat the omnics. Whenever he came across an arrow from a previously-downed bot, he pulled it out before using it to shoot another omnic.

After a moment of consideration, Ahote ran to help Hanzo. He didn’t trust the archer, but he still didn’t want him to get hurt, or surrounded by omnics. He wasn’t sure how well Hanzo would be able to defend against so many enemies.

Ahote quickly lost himself in the flow of battle. Whenever he shot down an omnic, another one popped up. He relied on instinct, forgetting for a few moments what he was fighting for, only knowing that he had to.

After what felt like a lifetime, Elisa shouted, “I’ve got it!”

As if she’d flipped a switch, the omnics collectively let out a loud, “RELEASE OROCHI!” They started to push forward, towards Elisa. Ahote lifted his hand, lasering the omnic he’d been fighting against in the head.

“Best hurry up with that bomb, ‘Lisa!” McCree shouted from across the core. “They ain’t waitin’ no more!”

Ahote sweeped out a foot to trip several omnics. They fell on top of each other, tripping more rushing forward. He pointed his prosthetic down at them before letting loose a laser; it shot through the head of one, the chest of another, and the foot of a third, before his arm chirped and he had to stop the blast.

“Genji, we have Orochi,” Elisa said through the comms. “I’m setting up the bomb now.”

“Finally!” Lehana said.

“Agreed,” Rorth said. “How long has it been?”

“Forty-five minutes,” Genji reported.

“How are you all doing?” Lúcio asked. Ahote was relieved; Lúcio sounded unhurt, if a little tired.

“Jus’ peachy, thanks fer askin’,” McCree said, his voice strained. “Y’know, this is kinda fu--”

“If you call this fun, I will shoot you where you stand,” Hanzo cleanly interrupted. “Focus, gaijin.”

“No need t’be so rude,” McCree grumbled into the comms.

Nobody replied. There was a loud slam outside the door Ahote was closest to. He kept fighting, determined not to be distracted by the noise. He stepped back to avoid a punch thrown by an omnic, then lifted his prosthetic to shoot a laser through its head, sending it careening to the floor.

The slam sounded again, before a large omnic stepped through the door, standing taller than the rest. Ahote faltered, his wide eyes trained on the new omnic. It had a square-ish head, a single red light for a face, and a boxy chest--a Bastion unit.

Ahote continued staring at it for a moment, amazed--but the Bastion didn’t have the same hesitation. It lifted its gun and fired, sending a spray of bullets across the room. Ahote couldn’t get his shield up in time; one bullet pierced the left side of his stomach, sending him to the floor.

Ahote growled through clenched teeth in pain, writhing as he held his hand to the bulletwound. It _hurt_ \--he’d been shot a few times before, but the pain didn’t grow any more bearable. Every breath of air was agony. As he pushed himself up, fighting through the pain, he had to stop every so often to catch his breath.

Someone grabbed Ahote’s shoulder, helping pull him to his feet. Ahote grimaced, glancing at them--Hanzo. “We must go!” Hanzo barked to the others. “There is a Bastion unit!”

“The bomb’s not done!” Elisa yelled back as Hanzo started to lead Ahote to her. Ahote had to step gingerly; every time he put weight on his left foot, electric pain lanced through his stomach. “I need more time!”

“No time, sugar!” McCree shouted, backing towards her as he continued shooting at the omnics in front of him. “We gotta go!”

“It won’t work right!” Elisa warned. “I need just a few more--”

The Bastion unit chirped. Ahote twisted around, gasping at the pain in his stomach as he held up his shield, protecting him and Hanzo from the next spray of bullets.

“Gah!” McCree shouted. When Ahote looked over at him, he was gripping his shoulder, a snarl on his face and blood leaking through his fingers. “Shit,” he cursed. “‘Lisa, we gotta go! _Now_!”

“Okay!” Elisa said, shooting to her feet. “It’ll still do what it has to, but--”

“Explain later,” Hanzo said. “We must move.”

“Okay, okay, okay,” Elisa said, stepping over the pods. “I’ll provide cover fire,” she said, stepping behind Ahote and Hanzo, facing the Bastion unit. She hefted her gun as Ahote started slowly walking forward.

“Genji,” Hanzo said into his comm. “We are on our way to you. There is a Bastion behind us.”

“ _What_?!” Rorth asked.

“Understood,” Genji said. “Are you alright?”

“Fine,” Hanzo said. “Two have been shot. We will be slow.”

Ahote felt a flush of shame at the words. He could go faster--he _knew_ he could. He had to, or they’d never outrun that Bastion; it was already gaining on them, Ahote confirmed as he glanced over his shoulder. He picked up his pace, stepping more heavily on his left foot. He grit his teeth against the pain thundering through his stomach; tears threatened to spring to his eyes. They needed to get out of that room, though, so he fought against the pain.

McCree and Hanzo cleared the way, beating back any omnics that threatened to break apart their small troupe. Ahote felt completely useless, but he didn’t know how he could help; he had to keep a hand held against the gunshot wound, or he was sure he’d pass out.

Eventually, they made it into the hallway. Elisa closed the door firmly behind them. As they made their way down the hall, she said, “We should hurry--a door won’t keep that Bastion at bay for long.”

Hanzo glanced back at Ahote, exhaling through his nose. “We will never escape at this pace,” he said. “Get on my back.”

Ahote frowned, nearly stopping in shock at the suggestion. “I don’t--” he tried to say.

“Get on,” Hanzo insisted. “You cannot walk quickly, and you will not be able to make it down the stairs, either. If you do not swallow your pride, you will die, and likely take us with you.”

Ahote knew Hanzo was right--he just didn’t like feeling so helpless. After a moment of consideration, he grit his teeth and nodded. “Okay,” he said.

Ahote climbed onto Hanzo’s back, grimacing as the wound in his stomach jostled. Hanzo wrapped his arms around Ahote’s legs, supporting him as he quickly walked down the hall. Ahote held on with one arm, pressing his free hand against his wound.

Ahote tried his hardest to not touch Hanzo’s bare chest, but it was really hard to avoid. Ahote held his hand in a fist to make sure he had a good margin between his hand and the edge of Hanzo’s clothing. He knew he’d fall if Hanzo let go, since his grip was so weak, but he was lucky archers had muscular arms.

Soon, they came to a stairwell--not the one they’d used to come up. They didn’t wait before rushing down the steps. Ahote let out a pained noise on the first stair; he wasn’t expecting the jostle, and pain shot through his stomach again. He grit his teeth and ducked his head down, resting the top of his head against Hanzo’s back as he closed his eyes, focusing on breathing the rest of the torturous way down the stairs.

When they reached the first floor, Ahote opened his eyes, though he didn’t lift his head back up until a few moments later. They were in a room that looked like the first one they’d entered, in the back of the omnium.

“How far are they?” Ahote asked, his voice weaker than he would’ve liked. He cleared his throat.

“We’re close now,” Elisa said, glancing over her shoulder at him. “How are you holding up?”

“I’m fine,” Ahote said, his voice clearer. “It just hurts a little.”

McCree snorted. “Guy gets shot in his gut ‘n’ he says it _just hurts a little_ ,” he grumbled.

“Should I start wailing in pain?” Ahote asked. “I’d be more than happy to.”

“No,” Hanzo said sternly.

“Yer a real stick in th’mud, y’know that?” McCree asked.

“Noted,” Hanzo said.

Ahote heard the sounds of combat, then--there was lots of gunfire and shouting. When they rounded a corner, they discovered the source. There were omnics spread around--not as many as had been in the core, but quite a bit. The others were easily downing the omnics.

“Howdy!” McCree shouted. The others looked over at them. Ahote’s gaze quickly landed on Lúcio, who was panting heavily. He had a few smudges of blood on his clothes, but looked unhurt; Ahote supposed having healing music helped a lot. Genji made his way over with Rorth and Lúcio.

Lúcio reached them first, skidding to a stop next to Hanzo and Ahote, worriedly looking over Ahote. “What’s wrong?” Lúcio asked. “What happened?”

“Bastion shot me,” Ahote said. He shrugged a shoulder, then grimaced as his stomach protested. “It’s no big deal, really--I’m just slow now.”

Lúcio gave an unconvinced frown. He didn’t voice his concerns, however, as Genji approached and said, “Good, you are here. We can leave.”

“Just one problem,” Elisa said. When their gazes turned to her, she blushed and ducked her head. “Ah,” she said, “since we had to rush out, I couldn’t properly set up the bomb. It will work, but the range of its detonator is limited.”

“How limited?” McCree asked.

“I have to be inside the omnium to detonate it,” Elisa said. “It will fry any prosthetics in the building with me. Probably forever.”

“Shit,” McCree grumbled, looking over at the tide of attacking omnics.

Genji was silent for a moment before he said, “Okay. We will leave some of the others with you, to help defend against the omnics.” Genji looked over his shoulder, at the others fighting.

“I will stay,” Hanzo said. “I have no prosthetics.”

“Thank you, Hanzo,” Elisa said.

“I’ll stay, too,” Rorth said. “Someone should be able to detonate the bomb if Miss College Degree here can’t,” he added with a good-natured smile.

“I appreciate that, Rorth,” Elisa said with a concerned frown, “but what about your eye? It’s--”

“Don’t worry about it,” Rorth said with a wink and a grin. “I hear people dig eyepatches anyway.”

“Okay,” Genji said. He lifted a hand to the side of his helmet, still looking at the fight as he said, “Rook, will you please come here?”

“You got it!” Lehana replied over the comm. She quickly zipped through omnics on her hoverboard, pushing quite a few down before she skidded to a halt in front of their group. “You rang?” she asked.

“Packet must stay in the building to detonate the bomb,” Genji explained. “Can you stay with her, to keep her safe? Your prosthetic will be useless after the bomb goes off, however.”

“And here I thought I’d get to leave first,” Lehana sighed. She added on, significantly more perkily, “Sure can!” as she gave a small salute.

“Thank you,” Elisa said, giving Lehana a grateful smile.

Unable to contain his curiosity, Ahote asked, “Didn’t that board explode?”

Lehana snorted. “What, you think I can’t fix my own board?” she asked. “Ol’ Razer’s done that plenty of times.”

Ahote furrowed his brow. “Wait--is that the same board you used to fight me on? While I was in Talon?”

“Duh,” Lehana said. “He’s the most trustworthy hoverboard.”

“You fixed him after _every_ explosion?” Ahote asked, incredulous.

“What else am I gonna do?” Lehana challenged. “Throw him away?”

“Focus,” Genji reminded. “We will start working our way out now. Do not detonate the bomb until we are all out.”

“Of course,” Elisa said. “I’ll give you as much time as possible.”

Genji nodded, then started walking away, McCree following after him. Genji said into his comm, “We are leaving. Make your way to the exit, quickly.”

Hanzo slowly let Ahote down. Ahote kept an arm wrapped around him as his feet met the ground; his knees felt a little weak, but after a moment, he was able to stand on his own.

“Thanks,” Ahote muttered as he took his arm and took a few steps back. He grimaced at the sharp pain running through his abdomen. “Sorry about the blood,” he said once he spotted the large red stain on the back of Hanzo’s clothing. “I would’ve preferred to keep it.”

“I will consider it a gift,” Hanzo said dryly. “Be quick.”

Ahote nodded before he turned to walk towards the door. He grimaced, pressing his hand harder against his wound, before someone lifted his left arm. Ahote looked to the side, ready to pull away, but he paused once he saw it was Lúcio.

“Tell me how you have that sweet shield and you _still_ got shot,” Lúcio grumbled as he laid Ahote’s arm across his shoulders. “Here, lean on me--this is something you can’t walk off.”

Ahote tried to fight the heat rushing to his cheeks. “Thanks,” he muttered, leaning against Lúcio. He felt a lot better without stepping too much on his left foot. Quiet music was playing from Lúcio’s speakers; it made Ahote’s heart beat a little quicker, and he felt like he was moving faster. He didn’t know why he said it, but he mumbled, “I’m...glad you’re okay.”

Lúcio didn’t get to respond, as there was a loud beeping noise from behind them. Ahote looked over his shoulder, catching a glimpse of the Bastion unit before the pain wrenching through his stomach forced him to look forward again.

“We need to hurry,” Ahote said, voice straining. “They won’t last long against that Bastion.”

“We’re going as fast as we can,” Lúcio said. “They’ll be fine. Look, we’re almost there.”

He was right. When Ahote glanced up, he could see the doors a few yards away. He grit his teeth, trying to ignore the gunfire and the shouting behind him. He just needed to take a few more steps, and--

A loud humming sound filled the room, and Ahote stumbled as his right, metallic foot gave out from under him. He would’ve fallen to the ground, but Lúcio wrapped a firm arm around Ahote’s waist, holding him up.

“Shit,” Lúcio muttered as they stood still. “She detonated it.”

Ahote looked over his shoulder. His prosthetics weren’t responding at all, but neither were the omnics. Their lights had gone out, and they were all still as statues--the Bastion included. “At least the omnics are offline,” Ahote said.

“Yeah,” Lúcio agreed. “At least we’ll have a peaceful time getting back.” He frowned, looking down at Ahote’s foot. “Okay, hang on; I’m gonna switch sides.”

“There is no need,” Hanzo said as he approached them. Ahote watched the archer as he stood in front of them, his back to them. “Get on my back.”

Ahote hesitated. “Are you sure?” he asked. “Aren’t you--”

“Would you prefer to walk?” Hanzo asked. “This is quicker and easier.”

Ahote hesitated before he sighed. “Fine,” he said. He knew Hanzo was right, and he appreciated the help--it was just embarrassing being so helpless.

Ahote hobbled forward with Lúcio’s help before he wrapped himself around Hanzo’s back. Hanzo wrapped his arms around Ahote’s legs again. Ahote wrapped one arm around Hanzo’s chest, hanging on for dear life. He grit his teeth, unable to apply pressure to his wound with his other hand, as it was a prosthetic.

Ahote focused on breathing deeply as they walked through the doors together. He couldn’t hold in a sigh of relief; the mission was over--for the moment, at least.


	14. Stolen

It was still raining outside. Ahote grimaced and glanced up at the dark sky as the water dropped onto his head. The others were standing a safe distance away from the omnium.

“What happened?” Genji asked once they got closer. “You did not get out of the omnium in time?”

“The Bastion unit,” Elisa said. She glanced guiltily at Ahote before she reached up to tug at her small braid. “It started shooting, and it nearly hit us, so I panicked, and….” She finished with a small sigh.

“You did the right thing,” Ahote said. At Elisa’s surprised expression, he gave her a small smile of reassurance.

“But...your prosthetics!” Elisa protested.

“Not worth someone else getting hurt,” Ahote said, as he glanced at the others. Rorth’s left eye was closed, though he had an easy grin on his face, and Lehana’s prosthetic arm was dangling uselessly next to her.

“Ahote is right,” Genji said. “We can go back to the safehouse now and look after those who have been injured or lost use of their prosthetics. You have all done well.”

Ahote felt a small nugget of pride swell up in his chest at the commendation. Genji turned around and led them away from the omnium.

“I can’t _wait_ t’get in a bath,” McCree groaned. He still held his shoulder tightly.

“Yeah, same here,” Lehana grumbled. “Maybe we can stop for food on the way back.”

“With how we look right now?” Rorth asked. “I think I’d rather die.”

“But you look fine, Rorth!” Nicola said, shooting Rorth a wink over his shoulder.

“I could say the same about you,” Rorth replied, giving a grin.

“Can I ask you two to never speak to each other again?” Ahote mumbled. “That’d be great, thanks.”

“Aw, c’mon, Aho,” Rorth said. “Don’t be jealous! You look great, too.”

Ahote ignored the warmth in his cheeks. He was glad he could hide his face in Hanzo’s back. “Don’t call me that.”

“What? Aho?” Rorth asked. “Lúcio calls you that, though!”

“It’s different,” Ahote said.

“Different how?” Rorth challenged. “You just like him better!”

“I do,” Ahote affirmed.

“Aw, I’m flattered,” Lúcio snickered. “Thanks, man.”

“I mean,” Ahote rushed to add as his blush deepened, “I’ve only known you for a few hours, Rorth.”

“Don’t worry!” Rorth replied, unperturbed. “We’ll be best friends soon enough.”

Ahote wouldn’t have bet on it, but he decided to stay silent. They rounded a corner, their cars coming into view. Ahote nearly sighed in relief; the pain in his gut was still gnawing at him, making every inhale shoot sharp pains through his side.

When they reached the car, Hanzo gently set Ahote down, close enough to the car to lean against. As the others piled into it, Hanzo picked at his bloodstained gi with a wrinkled nose. “Does anyone have a towel?” he grumbled.

“Sorry,” Ahote said, pressing his hand against the wound again. “Fresh out.”

“Unfortunate,” Hanzo grumbled. He stepped into the car, climbing into the very back seat. “I hope you did not rent this car, Genji.”

“I paid the bloodstain charges in advance,” Genji said, behind the wheel, as Ahote slowly climbed into his own seat.

“Good call, Genji,” McCree said from the front passenger seat, his voice strained. “Least that’ll--”

He stopped as something landed hard on the roof of the car, denting it. Ahote jumped, grimacing at the pain and clutching his side, as he looked up at the ceiling of the car.

“Did you pay for ‘bad guys landing on the roof,’ too?” Lehana asked as she opened her door and stepped outside again. “Hey, asshole!” she shouted to the person on the car.

As Genji and McCree slid out of the car, Ahote slowly sat up, ready to step out himself. Someone gently set a hand on his left shoulder, trying to get him to lean back again.

Ahote frowned, looking over his shoulder to see that it was Lúcio. “Stay in here,” he said as Hanzo climbed out of the back. “We can handle it.”

“I can help--” Ahote tried to argue.

“Not right now, you can’t,” Lúcio said, then gave Ahote a reassuring smile. “It’ll be fine.”

Ahote hesitated before he exhaled out of his nose. “Fine,” he said. “But if it starts going south--”

“You’ll stay in here and make sure you don’t get hurt any _more_ ,” Lúcio said. He pat Ahote’s shoulder before he climbed out of the car.

Ahote huffed quietly, turning his head to look out the window. If he leaned _just_ right, he could look through the rearview mirror (though his stomach hated it). He could see lots of people in black, fighting behind the car with the others. Each side was holding its own well enough.

Ahote gnawed on his bottom lip as he watched. As one of the attackers threw a punch meant for Lehana, Ahote saw a flash of white on the man’s shoulder--the Talon symbol. Ahote’s heart stopped for a moment as he continued staring at the scene.

How did Talon find him? Find _them_ , he corrected. Talon couldn’t have known they were attacking the omnium that night unless it had bugged their rooms somehow, but Ahote had been thorough in checking the rooms. Maybe a spy? He couldn’t think of anyone who could be a spy--but then, spies were never apparent, were they? Maybe Talon had been waiting for them to come out? But that didn’t seem likely, either.

Ahote wanted nothing more than to get out and help, but Lúcio’s words rang in his ears. He knew he’d be no help; even if he hadn’t been shot, his prosthetics didn’t work. He would be able to stand there, at best.

The other Overwatch members were doing fine; they were beating back the Talon attackers, if Ahote wasn’t mistaken. He felt a swell of hope in his chest, but it shattered when he saw the flash of a silver dress, shiny even in the dead of night. Ahote’s heart froze as he saw the woman sneaking in between the Overwatch members, dragging her hand down exposed skin, using her scythe to slash at them whenever someone turned to face her.

When she approached Lúcio, Ahote couldn’t hold himself back anymore; he couldn’t do anything, but at least distracting her would be better than sitting and hiding.

Ahote gingerly stepped out of the car, holding the wound in his stomach tightly as he faced the conflict, his prosthetic leg only really propping him up. He limped down the length of the car so he could get a better view of the playing field.

She came into vision again once he reached the trunk of the car. Most of the members--McCree, Lehana, Nicola, Rorth, and Hanzo--were already paralyzed and laying on the ground.

“Kronos!” Ahote shouted when she was about to touch Lúcio’s arm. Lúcio whirled around, trying to get away from her, but her knuckles brushed his arm. He slowed a little, though he was still able to skate away.

Kronos looked over her shoulder at Ahote, giving him a grin. “Well, well,” she said, turning to face him fully. “Cheveyo! Not feeling as cowardly now?”

Ahote grit his teeth, glaring with all his might at Kronos. He could feel rage boiling through his veins again, but he tried to simmer down; he couldn’t act on it. Luckily, he didn’t have to; Genji threw a shuriken at her then. It sliced her arm, and she hissed, lifting a hand to hold the wound as she faced Genji.

“I hear you can only slow us if you can touch our skin,” Genji said, holding himself tall. “You will have a tough time fighting me.”

Kronos tittered. “So confident!” she mocked. “No wonder you couldn’t stop me from taking what I wanted last time, hm?”

Ahote’s attention was torn away from the altercation when a Talon agent stepped in front of him. He frowned at her, tensing up and preparing for a fight. He knew her; they’d never spoken, but he’d seen her face around the Talon bases several times. She’d always looked stoic, and she even did then, in front of Ahote in the middle of a battle.

“I’m staying out of this,” Ahote said.

The woman snorted. “No, you aren’t,” she said, then threw a right hook aimed at Ahote’s jaw.

Ahote lifted his flesh hand to grab the woman’s wrist, stopping her fist in its tracks. As his gut tensed to hold back her hand, his wound shot electric pain through him, making him grimace and slacken his grip a little. The woman used that to her advantage, wrenching her fist from his hand. She launched another punch at him, this time using her left hand.

Ahote brought his flesh hand up again, using it to push against her forearm, so her punch whizzed past his face, only scraping his cheek. Her other fist, however, suddenly slammed into Ahote’s gut, right next to his wound.

Ahote gasped and doubled over, pain stabbing his skin and blood rushing into his mouth. As he tried to catch his breath, the woman grabbed the base of his ponytail before she slammed his head into the side of the car.

Ahote’s ears rang as he fell to the pavement with a groan. His stomach felt like it was on fire, and his head was pounding. The woman looked down at him with a sneer before she moved away.

Ahote stared up at the sky as his head spun. He couldn’t see the stars--why weren’t the stars out? It was nighttime, they were usually out by then. Did Talon take them? Why would Talon take them?

As Ahote’s vision straightened, he threw the thoughts out of his head. The wound in his stomach was becoming tolerable again, though he wasn’t sure how he’d stand.

Deciding he had to at least try, Ahote grit his teeth and slowly rolled onto his stomach. His gut screamed at him the whole way, and when he landed, he felt fiery, angry pain shoot up his side. He took a moment to breathe and assess the situation in front of him.

The only ally still standing was Genji. He was facing off against Kronos, avoiding her scythe and touches with nimble grace. He was moving more slowly than usual, though--fatigue, perhaps? Ahote saw a slice in Genji’s suit then, across his back. That wasn’t good.

The other Talon agents were searching the others--rifling through their pockets and clothes. Ahote was confused about what they were doing until one triumphantly held up the thumb drive with Orochi on it.

“We have the god program!” the Talon agent called.

“Aw,” Kronos cooed, “and just when things were getting fun!” She blocked a punch by Genji using her scythe.

Genji looked past her then, his gaze landing on the Talon agent with the thumb drive. Using Kronos’ shoulder as leverage, Genji leaped up high, aiming to land on the Talon agent with the thumb drive.

“Oh, no, you don’t!” Kronos said, whirling around as Genji jumped behind her. She shot her scythe out and hooked the blade around Genji’s foot. She yanked back, and Genji landed on the ground with a dull thud. She didn’t hesitate before she pulled her scythe back and sliced down. Genji let out a cry as her blade penetrated his suit, and likely his skin.

She lifted her scythe up for another strike. In an attempt to distract her, Ahote yelled, “Kronos!” She looked over at him as she brought her scythe down on Genji again, and he let out another cry. “I’m not done with you!”

“Hm,” Kronos hummed, glancing back down at Genji. When she brought her scythe down on him again, Ahote winced. “Funny,” she continued, turning to face Ahote and slowly stalking over. “You seemed done enough when you ran away from our little family.”

“That’s no family,” Ahote growled. “And we have unfinished business,” he said once Kronos stood in front of him. He pushed himself up on his arm, glaring at Kronos with as much might as he could muster while laying on too-warm asphalt.

“Oh, do we?” Kronos asked. “As far as _I’m_ concerned, you’re finished--unless you’d like to come back to Talon?”

Ahote spat blood at Kronos’ shoes, several drops splattering on the heels. “Hell no,” he swore, looking back up at her.

Kronos sighed as she looked down at her shoes. “Darn,” she said mockingly. “And here I was, hoping we wouldn’t have to be _so_ uncivil.”

“Fat chance,” Ahote snarled, “after what you just did to Genji.”

“Oh,” Kronos said, “you _care_ about the cyborg? That’s funny,” she said as she dropped her scythe down on the bottom of Ahote’s back, “considering he hasn’t done _anything_ for you.” The tip of her scythe dug in sharply, making Ahote inhale sharply with the pain.

“He’s done more for me,” Ahote struggled to get out, her poison already slowing his mouth, “than you have. They all have.”

“Is that how you feel?” Kronos asked as she slowly dragged her scythe upwards, widening the cut in Ahote’s back. He clenched his hand into a fist, gritting his teeth through the pain. “I _saved_ you! I made you what you are! And how do you repay me?” She jerked the scythe, ripping closer to Ahote’s shoulder. He dropped his head, squeezing his eyes shut, as Kronos said, “By fucking running away! _There’s_ gratitude!”

Ahote didn’t respond. He wasn’t sure if he could, but he did know that if he opened his mouth, he’d cry out in pain. He didn’t want to give her the satisfaction.

Suddenly, Kronos’ scythe stopped. She backed up from Ahote, pulling her scythe away, as she asked, “What the fuck is this?”

Ahote focused on breathing. He felt lightheaded; he was sure he’d lost a lot of blood. He was glad he was laying down, positive he’d pass out if he moved. His back ached as warm air breezed over it. Gravel dug into his arm, and he longed to move it, but it would’ve just made it worse.

“Back off!” a small, unfamiliar voice squeaked from above Ahote. He lifted his head, squinting his eyes. His vision was blurry, but there was a small... _thing_ above him, its golden glow stark against the night sky.

“Ugh,” Kronos said, a sneer on her face as she stared at the glowing--it looked like it was a human, if Ahote squinted hard enough. He was sure he was hallucinating. “Great. The _fairy’s_ here.”

“Get out of here!” the ‘fairy’ shouted, her tiny voice filled with rage. “You’ve hurt them enough!”

“And how are you gonna stop me, pipsqueak?” Kronos asked. “You don’t even have a fairy army to help you.”

The fairy flew forward, before her glow disappeared and she started--growing. Ahote blinked, trying to clear his vision, but it was still fuzzy. The fairy was definitely growing, though; eventually, she stood as tall as a human (albeit a short one).

Her dark, fluffy hair was tied in a long ponytail, cascading past her shoulders, which were covered in a golden shawl made out of what looked like hard light. White armor with blue lights covered her body, and reminded Ahote distantly of an omnic, perhaps. A small, robotic orb disconnected from her back and hovered near her head.

“Leave,” the fairy commanded. Her small drone started shooting golden...disks, Ahote guessed, at Kronos.

Kronos swiped aside one disk with her scythe, but she wasn’t expecting such a rapid second one. The disk slammed into her shoulder, letting out a sizzle. Kronos bared her teeth in a growl, and took a step back.

“We’re leaving!” she said. “We got what we came for.” She started walking away, the other Talon agents following her.

The fairy’s drone kept firing at the Talon agents until they were out of sight. When the Talon members disappeared, the drone returned to its place on the fairy’s back. She sighed, then looked over her shoulder, her dark eyes landing on Ahote for a moment, before she stepped over to the others.

Ahote tried to fight the darkness tiptoeing at the edges of his vision, but he couldn’t for very long; he’d lost too much blood, he supposed. Eventually, his eyes slid shut, and unconsciousness overtook him.

* * *

When Ahote woke up, he was laying on his back. Air brushed over his bare torso, and he didn’t feel sticky with blood anymore. He was content to relax until he remembered the strange fairy-woman.

Ahote shot up into a sitting position, his eyes flying open. His head gave a sharp jolt of pain, as did his torso and back, so he groaned, closing his eyes and holding a hand to his face as he slowly laid back down again.

Once his brain stopped pounding against his skull, Ahote cracked open his eyes, glancing around the room. He was in the motel room. Genji was on the bed to the left, sleeping peacefully on top of the covers. Bandages covered his chest.

Lúcio was sleeping on Ahote’s right. Ahote felt a weight lift off his chest; Lúcio didn’t look too hurt. He had a few bandages wrapped around his arm, and one on his cheek, but other than that, he seemed unscathed.

“You’re awake,” an unfamiliar voice said softly. Ahote’s gaze shot to the source--the fairy-woman--as he pushed himself up on an elbow.

Ahote looked at her carefully. She was out of her armor, the hard light shawl nowhere to be seen. In the corner, she was sitting on a plastic chair--probably one she’d dragged in from the table outside.

Since his mind wasn’t filled with fog, he realized then that he knew her. They’d fought each other, when Ahote was part of Talon. She’d been in Blackwatch, he recalled. He hadn’t fought her as often as he’d fought McCree and Lehana, but it’d been often enough to leave a vague memory in Ahote’s mind.

“I remember you,” he said quietly.

She inclined her head towards him. “I remember you,” she replied. “My name is Corazon de Rosales.”

“Ahote,” Ahote said carefully. “How did you know where we were?”

Corazon shrugged a shoulder. “I’m from the OPPF,” she said. “Nico told us what you’d be doing, and we figured he would need help.”

Ahote frowned. “He didn’t tell us you were coming.”

Corazon huffed. “Typical,” she muttered. “I apologize. He’s very secretive when he doesn’t really need to be.”

“I noticed,” Ahote said. He frowned, unsure of how to take Corazon’s excuse. She could’ve easily been lying, but why? He decided to think on it later as he asked, “Did you...?” He motioned to the bandages on his chest.

Corazon nodded. “Elisa helped patch some of the others up,” she said, “but while she was unconscious, yes.” Her eyes crinkled as she gave a small smile. “That omnium was no joke, huh?”

“It wasn’t,” Ahote agreed. “How is everyone else?”

“Stable,” Corazon replied. “You, Genji, and Jesse got the worst of it.” She crossed her legs at the knee. “Considering there was a Bastion unit, I’m shocked it wasn’t worse.”

“How did you know that?” Ahote asked quickly, narrowing his eyes at her.

She held her hands up. “Genji told me,” she said. “He told me how to get here, too, if you were wondering.”

Ahote nodded. “How long were we out?”

“You’ve been out for a few hours,” Corazon replied. “Two or three.”

Ahote nodded, a little relieved; it hadn’t been very long at all, then. A thought came to him, and he quickly asked, “The thumb drive?”

“Talon has it,” she replied, her face sobering. “I would have followed them, but you all were injured pretty badly.”

“Right,” Ahote murmured, averting his gaze. He felt a little disappointed, and ashamed that he hadn’t done _anything_ to stop Kronos, but he knew Corazon had made the right choice.

“We will find it again,” Corazon said. “I imagine they’re not far.”

“Right,” Ahote repeated. He pushed himself up, trying to sit. Once he was upright, he grimaced; his head pounded a little, and his side and back both felt stiff and achey.

“You should lay down,” Corazon said. “You need to rest.”

Ahote snorted (and immediately regretted it as the wound in his side stabbed pain through him). “Rest is the last thing on my mind,” he said. “But I’m not going anywhere,” he finished as he frowned down at his prosthetic arm. The light in the palm was off, and it wouldn’t respond to his whims. He felt unbalanced.

“Right,” Corazon said. “Your prosthetics. I could take a look, if you’d like?” Ahote frowned, looking up at her. “I designed prosthetics for Overwatch, before it fell. I know a thing or two.”

“You were a field specialist in Blackwatch,” Ahote said, his brow furrowed.

“Not always,” Corazon said, giving a small smile. “I might be able to get your limbs working again.”

Ahote considered for a moment. He didn’t trust Corazon--she seemed polite enough, but...everyone else was asleep. He’d wait for them to wake up and corroborate her stories before he trusted her with his prosthetics.

“I’ll...figure something out,” he said. “Thanks.”

Corazon frowned. “If you’re sure,” she said slowly.

“I am,” Ahote confirmed with a nod. “Shouldn’t you...check on the others?”

Corazon nodded as she stood up. “It has been a while,” she said. She took a keycard from the corner of the dresser. “Make sure you rest,” she said with a frown to Ahote. “Genji told me you don’t do that enough.”

“What else would I do?” Ahote asked.

Corazon looked at him doubtfully for a moment before she stepped outside.

Ahote inhaled deeply, his head drooping as he reached up to rub at his forehead. He couldn’t help but feel responsible for Talon taking Orochi, and for being unable to help at all. If he’d been faster in the omnium, or if he hadn’t bothered with that first Talon agent, then things might’ve been different. Things _would’ve_ been different.

Ahote sighed. It’d been a bad day, but…. He looked at Lúcio. At least _he_ hadn’t been hurt too badly. That gave Ahote some small sense of comfort, for a reason he couldn’t discern.

Almost as if Lúcio felt Ahote’s gaze, his eyes fluttered open. He looked over at Ahote, and he gave a weak grin. “Hey,” he said, his voice cracking.

“Hey,” Ahote said, returning the grin. He then frowned as he asked, “Do you need some water?”

“Nah,” Lúcio replied as he waved a hand. He looked at Ahote for a moment, a disapproving frown crossing his face. “You do know you should be laying down, right?”

Ahote averted his gaze, looking at the white covers under him. “Yeah,” he said. “I just...can’t sit still, right now.”

“Do we need to have a repeat of that whole ‘you’re not alone’ conversation?” Lúcio asked. “I’m game if we do.”

“No,” Ahote said, glancing at Lúcio. “I remember. Thank you.”

“Then why can’t you sit still?” Lúcio asked.

Ahote hesitated. If anyone else had asked, he would’ve brushed off the question, but...when Lúcio asked, he didn’t want to. Some part of him liked it when Lúcio asked--when he showed concern.

“I…” Ahote said slowly, staring down at the covers, “...was useless.” He pressed his lips together before he said, “I hate feeling like that.”

Lúcio was silent for a moment before he carefully asked, “Well, it’s not like you would’ve sat there if you were completely healthy, right?” When Ahote shook his head, Lúcio continued, “You weren’t useless--just injured. You did a lot more than you should’ve.”

Ahote grimaced, warm shame washing through his body. “Right,” he said. “You told me to stay in the car.”

“Which you conveniently forgot to buy me a few extra seconds,” Lúcio said. “Thanks, I appreciate it, but I don’t think the trade was worth it.”

“Sorry,” Ahote grumbled. “I tried to stay still, but when I saw Kronos going for you, I--” He stopped, his voice breaking off suddenly as unbidden memories flooded into his head.

He’d been walking home from school. It’d been an otherwise nice day--a cool (for Arizona, anyway) spring breeze had been blowing. He’d been excited to get home, to tell his mother about some funny thing that had happened at school. He didn’t remember the story, or the names of the kids in it. She never got to hear the story--Kronos had made sure of it.

When he’d gotten home, the front door had been ajar. It was strange, but Ahote hadn’t thought too much about it; he figured someone had come to visit, or perhaps his mother was in the middle of doing something. When he’d pushed open the door, though, and had seen his living room--

“ _Ahote_ ,” Lúcio said loudly, setting a hand on Ahote’s shoulder.

Ahote jolted, looking back at Lúcio with wide eyes. “What?” he asked. He blinked and rubbed at his face--he’d been tearing up. By Lúcio’s expression, he’d been trying to get Ahote’s attention for a while.

“What’s wrong?” Lúcio asked gently, his eyes searching.

“Nothing,” Ahote said out of reflex. He sighed, looking away from Lúcio. “I just...remembered something.”

“Aho,” Lúcio said, slowly taking his hand off of Ahote’s shoulder. Ahote looked back at him out of the corner of his eye. “I want to understand. You seem to lose your cool whenever Kronos shows up. Why?”

Ahote grit his teeth, staring at the covers for a moment. “She…” he began hesitatingly, trying to find the words. “...Took someone I cared about,” he finished. “A lot. I can’t let her do it again.” He clenched his hand into a fist. “I _won’t_.”

Lúcio nodded, watching Ahote for a moment. “I...get that,” he finally said, looking down. “Not the being forced to join an evil organization, but the...having someone taken from you.” Lúcio took in a deep breath. “It sucks.”

Ahote nodded. “It does.”

“But,” Lúcio said, “that’s no excuse to get all self-sacrificial whenever she shows her face.”

“I don’t--” Ahote began.

“Yes you do,” Lúcio interrupted. “That’s why you got out of the car.”

“No, it isn’t,” Ahote said. “I got out because I wanted to protect you.” He stayed silent for a moment, then blushed deeply as he realized what that sounded like. “You guys, I mean,” he quickly added. “All of you. Everyone. Not just….” He coughed nervously.

Lúcio gave a small grin, which he quickly smothered and forced into a frown. “Stop,” he said. “I’m serious. She’s dangerous, man; you have to rein yourself in when she shows up.”

“I know,” Ahote said, looking down at his hands. “I try. When she was in the hotel room, it was just...surprising. She was the last person I expected to show up.”

“I get it,” Lúcio said. “I’m just worried. If you keep letting her kick your ass like this, there won’t be much left to kick.”

“Yeah,” Ahote said with a slow nod. “You’re right. I’ll...try to be more careful around her.” He looked quickly at Lúcio. “I’m not promising anything, though.”

“I think the day when you start actually fully taking care of yourself is the day I die from shock,” Lúcio said, as he stood from the bed. “Want some water?” he asked as he stepped to the fridge.

Ahote nodded. “I thought you said you didn’t need any water,” he said.

Lúcio handed him a cold bottle of water as he said, “Well, I knew you’d try to get it yourself, and like I said, you need to rest.”

Ahote nodded silently. He held his bottle between his thighs as he unscrewed the cap, before he threw his head back and took a long drink. When he finally put the half-full bottle back down, Lúcio was sitting on the bed again.

They watched television together after that (quietly, so as to not disturb Genji). Ahote didn’t feel _entirely_ at peace--with Kronos around, that wasn’t a surprise--but he was sure close, as he and Lúcio laughed together at game shows.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a tough chapter Dx Corazon "Diwata" de Rosales belongs to my friend Adri, whomst can be found at tendercrush.tumblr.com!!


	15. Waiting Game

What bothered Ahote most about the following days was the silence. He’d expected news of rampaging omnics the day after Talon had taken Orochi, but there was nothing. It was as if everything was fine, like it’d all been a bad dream.

When Genji told Winston about what had happened, Winston was distressed. He said that the United Nations were still insisting on investigating, on having him take them to each Watchpoint across the globe-- _just to be thorough_ , he snorted angrily. He said he’d try to think of a way to get the god program from Talon, then call back.

Elisa insisted she take a look at Ahote’s prosthetics, to see what she could do. A day later, she came back and said that she couldn’t do anything. She said that Corazon (“Cory,” as everyone seemed fond of calling her) would be able to do much more, so Ahote reluctantly gave Corazon permission to fix his prosthetics. It took her two days. During those two days, Ahote was confined to his bed, unable to move without support.

Ahote felt more restless than ever. It’d been bad enough when he could _move_ after an attack by Talon; being rendered motionless made his anxiety rocket through the roof. The only way he could sleep was if he was listening to Lúcio’s “lullaby,” though he only asked for it for one night. He didn’t want to deprive Lúcio of a phone _every_ day.

On the third day since Ahote relinquished his prosthetics (and since Talon’s attack), most of the others were gone, searching through the city for any sign of Talon. Genji was the only one with Ahote, keeping him company (and providing an actual viable defense should they need it, Ahote knew).

Genji was sitting on his own bed, flipping boredly though television channels as Ahote read through a book passively. A knock at the door startled Ahote, however, making him look sharply up at the door, then at Genji.

Genji frowned a little before he stood up. He grabbed his baseball cap off of the corner of his bed before he jammed it onto his head and stepped to the door, peering through the peephole first.

“Who is it?” Ahote asked, quietly.

Genji didn’t answer. He instead put the chain lock in, before he opened the door a crack, poking his head out. "Ohayougozaimasu!" he said brightly. "Tetsudaimashouka?"

“You’re Overwatch, right?” a voice with an accent--New York, maybe?--asked.

“No?” Genji replied. “My name is--”

“I know you’re Overwatch,” the voice cut in. “Open the fuckin’ door.”

“You are mistaken!” Genji tried to defend. “I am only here with my--”

“Do us both a favor and drop the bullshit,” the voice said. “I’m not gonna attack you or turn you in or whatever. I just wanna talk.”

Genji was silent for a moment before he sighed and shut the door. He pulled out the chain lock.

“Genji,” Ahote asked, “are you sure that’s a good idea?”

“Not entirely,” Genji replied as he opened the door again, and stepped to the side, allowing the person in.

Allowing the _omnic_ in, Ahote amended. They were about an inch shorter than Genji, and made of mostly black metal plating; they had glowing purple lights in their legs, and black sneakers on their feet. Their torso was covered by a ratty, dark gray sweater, that looked like it’d been through the entirety of the Omnic War. Their faceplate was mostly smooth, save for two half-moon purple eyes that lent the omnic a perpetually unimpressed look.

The omnic’s gaze landed on Ahote, sitting there without an arm and a leg. “What the fuck happened to _you_?” they asked.

“Who are you?” Ahote asked, not in the mood to play games. He warily eyed the omnic.

“Name’s Cyril,” they said, leaning against the dresser. “I heard you guys got the god program from the omnium?”

“How did you hear that?” Ahote asked as Genji sat on his bed again. “Who told you?”

“Chill out,” Cyril said. “I have my ways.”

Ahote snorted. “ _That’s_ not suspicious.”

“Ahote,” Genji said, his voice lightly chastising. “Let them speak.”

Ahote frowned, though he kept his mouth shut as he continued watching Cyril closely.

“ _Thank_ you, cyber dude,” Cyril replied.

“Genji,” Genji said.

“Cyber dude,” Cyril affirmed. “Anyway, I was wonderin’ where you left the god program at.”

“Why do you wish to know?” Genji asked.

“I’m interested in it,” Cyril replied.

“What do you plan to do with it?” Ahote asked, unable to keep quiet any longer. He didn’t trust the omnic--not one bit.

“Little thing I like to call nunya,” Cyril said, glancing at Ahote. It almost seemed like a glare.

“Why are you interested in it, then?” Ahote asked. “You could do a lot of damage with it.”

“Look, I’m not lookin’ forward to the end of humans or whatever,” Cyril said. “It’s just...my only family member left is involved with it. I gotta know where it is.”

Ahote frowned. The story struck a chord in his heart, but it would’ve been easy for the omnic to tell a sad lie to get him to lower his defenses. “Involved how?” he asked.

“Remember that thing I mentioned?” Cyril asked. “Called nunya? Yeah, that.”

“You can’t expect us to tell you where the god program is if you give us only _that_ to work on,” Ahote said. “Do you even have a name for your supposed relative?”

“Here I thought Overwatch was supposed to be _nice_ ,” Cyril said. “New management or somethin’?”

“Regardless of your intentions,” Genji said loudly, glancing sternly at Ahote, “we do not have the god program any longer. It was taken from us.”

“Taken?” Cyril asked. “What idiot would take a fuckin’ god program from Overwatch?”

“Talon,” Genji replied. “We are currently doing our best to find it again. I am sorry we cannot help you with your relative, but--”

“I’ll just have to help you guys get it back,” Cyril said with a shrug.

“You would be willing to do that?” Genji asked, tilting his head a little.

“Why not?” Cyril asked. “I’ve got dick to do. Might as well.”

“Assuming we can trust you, of course,” Ahote said. “Genji, you’re not seriously considering this, are you?” he asked with a glance to Genji. “We don’t know _anything_ about them.”

“You talk a lotta shit for a guy with half your limbs gone,” Cyril said, pointing at Ahote. “What’s your deal?”

“My _deal_ is that we don’t know anything about you, but you just waltz in here demanding answers,” Ahote said, narrowing his eyes at Cyril. “Who the hell are you?”

“Who the hell are _you_?” Cyril asked, crossing their arms as they turned to face Ahote. “I’ve got more of a fuckin’ stake in this god program than you all combined. I’m not here to betray you or anythin’ like that, and if I was, don’t you think I would’a come up with a better story than ‘nunya’?”

“Your stake in the god program doesn’t mean anything if we can’t trust you,” Ahote said. “You--”

“Enough,” Genji’s voice interrupted, smooth as water. “Ahote, we need the help--you know that.”

Ahote opened his mouth to respond, but when Genji gave him a steely glance, he closed it again.

Genji looked back at Cyril, thinking for a moment, before he said, “We can put it to a vote. The others will want to have a say.”

“Democracy,” Cyril grumbled. “I like it.”

Ahote didn’t share the sentiment, but he kept his mouth shut. Deep down, he knew it was fair; he just didn’t like how little he knew about Cyril.

“Ahote?” Genji asked, looking at him. “Is that acceptable?”

Ahote nodded, looking down to pick at his blanket. “Yeah, it’s fine,” he muttered.

The waiting was agony. Cyril and Genji made smalltalk, and Ahote pretended to be focused on his book. Cyril didn’t reveal any more about themself--they just made jokes, and talked about pizza, of all things. They had strong opinions on it, for someone who couldn’t eat.

After about an hour, the door unlocked with a beep. Lúcio stepped through, holding two white plastic bags. He stopped when his eyes landed on Cyril, sitting in the corner, before he slowly looked over at Ahote and Genji.

“Uh...hey?” Lúcio greeted, confusion clear on his face.

“Hey,” Cyril greeted, giving Lúcio a lazy wave. “Name’s Cyril, how the fuck are ya?”

“Fine?” Lúcio replied. “Genji, can I ask--”

Genji held up a hand as he stood up from the bed. “I will explain to everyone,” he said. “Are the others back as well?”

Lúcio nodded. “Yeah, they’re heading to their rooms. I can go get them if you want,” he offered.

“I can do it,” Genji said, walking towards the door. “You relax. I will be back in a moment.”

As Genji stepped outside, Lúcio nodded at Cyril again. “I’m Lúcio,” he said, placing the plastic bags in the fridge.

“Yeah, I know,” Cyril replied. “You know, you look a _lot_ taller on TV.”

“I get that a lot,” Lúcio said as he sat next to Ahote. “It’s the hair. And the fact that I’m the only one on stage.”

Cyril nodded sagely. Lúcio glanced at Ahote, who wrinkled his nose and looked down at the blanket.

The silence between them after that was awkward, but blissfully short. After a minute or two, Genji walked through the door, the rest of the members piling into the room after him. Ahote figured they’d have to get a better motel soon, with how squished everyone was.

“I assume this has somethin’ t’do with th’omnic sittin’ in the corner,” McCree guessed, sitting next to Genji, on his bed.

“That is correct,” Genji said.

“Name’s Cyril,” Cyril introduced, giving a sarcastic two-fingered salute.

“Cyril would like to join us as we search for Orochi,” Genji explained.

“Alright,” Lehana muttered, also sitting on Genji’s bed. “Weird, but alright.”

“Why?” Hanzo asked, closest to the exit.

“Lookin’ for some family,” Cyril said with a shrug of their shoulders. “They’re involved with the god program. You know how it is.”

“Do I?” Hanzo replied scathingly. “I was unaware.”

“Hey, chill,” Cyril said. “You guys seem _real_ on edge.”

“You’ll forgive us,” Rorth said, standing almost right next to Cyril. “It’s been a rough few days. How do you know we took Orochi?”

“Little birdie told me,” Cyril said. When nobody responded to that, they sighed and continued, “And I might’a been watchin’ the omnium for a few days. Casin’ it out, you know.”

When nobody else offered up any questions, Genji said, “I would like to hold a vote as to whether or not we will allow Cyril to join us. A simple yes or no will do. We will go around the room.” His eyes landed on McCree.

McCree exhaled through his nose, staring at Cyril before he said, “Naw. We’ve got enough hands as is. ‘Sides, we’re pretty much outta bedrooms.”

“I’m game,” Lehana voted next. “You can come with. Some omnic insight to help with a god program, right?”

Ahote stopped listening closely then, thinking about his own answer. He didn’t trust the omnic, not one bit; but maybe they _would_ be an asset? Maybe the others were right, and Cyril would provide much-needed help. But...Ahote’s mind flashed back to the first Talon attack, then the second. He didn’t want to risk that again. He still couldn’t lift his arm too high, or it’d tear at the cut in his back.

He listened closely enough to know that the only other person that said _no_ was Hanzo. Ahote knew that, no matter what he said, Cyril would be joining them. But did he want to go along with the masses, because it was hopeless? Or did he want to state his opinion, regardless of the outcome?

Ahote knew it was his turn to vote when the room fell silent. When he looked up, everyone was looking at him. He swallowed the urge to run away as he looked at Cyril. He opened his mouth, hesitating a moment, before he finally forced out, “No.”

Genji, thankfully, was quick. “Then it seems Cyril will be joining us,” he said. “Welcome to the team, Cyril,” he said, nodding his head.

“Thanks,” Cyril said. “This is just temporary, though. Once I have my family, I’m gone.”

“That is fair,” Genji said. “We will do our best to help--within reason, of course.”

“‘Course,” Cyril said. “Who d’you think I am?”

 _If only we knew,_ Ahote thought bitterly, though he didn’t voice the words. He looked down at his blanket, picking at it and tuning everyone out until the crowd left. Cyril left with them.

After they left, Lúcio jumped off the bed as he asked, “Chow time?”

“Yes,” Genji said. “I will be eating with Hanzo today.”

“Oooh,” Lúcio said as he walked to the fridge and opened it. “You two have been spending a lot of time together lately,” he continued as he pulled out the plastic bags from earlier, slamming the door shut with his hip.

Genji nodded. “Yes,” he said. He accepted a bag from Lúcio with a grateful smile as he stood and said, “I believe he is...beginning to come to terms with what has become of me. He said he is considering staying with Overwatch.”

“Aw, that’s great, man!” Lúcio said as he sat next to Ahote again. “That’d be awesome for you both.”

“Yes,” Genji agreed. “I am leaving now. Enjoy your meals.”

“You too!” Lúcio said as Genji stepped out the front door.

Ahote picked silently at his meal. He knew he should’ve eaten, but he couldn’t force himself to move much more than his fingertips as he twirled a french fry. He assumed Cyril would be staying in the same room as Corazon. He felt like they’d rented out the entire motel. It would become suspicious, soon; he supposed they’d have to move, soon, if they didn’t finish their business.

“Psst,” Lúcio whispered, interrupting Ahote’s thoughts.

“Yeah?” Ahote replied as he looked at Lúcio.

“You’re not eating,” Lúcio said.

Ahote glanced down at their trays; Lúcio’s was only half-full, while Ahote’s wasn’t missing a single fry. “I...guess not,” Ahote said slowly as he looked back up at Lúcio. “I will.”

“You sure?” Lúcio asked, lifting a brow. “I could always help, you know.”

“Help?” Ahote asked. “How? It’s just eating.”

Lúcio answered by holding a french fry up, near Ahote’s mouth. “Open uuup,” he said, a playful grin on his face.

Heat quickly enveloped Ahote’s face as he averted his gaze. “Oh,” he said. “...That’s how.”

Lúcio didn’t drop the fry. “C’mon,” he said. “Just one bite! Then you’ll start eating more yourself.”

“No,” Ahote said, still stubbornly looking to the side. “I’m perfectly capable of feeding myself.”

“Reaaally?” Lúcio asked. He tried to chase Ahote’s mouth with the fry. Ahote bobbed his head away from the menacing food object, to avoid it. Lúcio kept pursuing; when he accidentally bumped the fry against Ahote’s nose, Ahote couldn’t keep a small grin from cracking his face.

“Alright, alright,” Ahote said, a laugh on the edge of his voice. “You win.”

“Yeah!” Lúcio cheered. When Ahote reached up to take the fry between his own fingers, however, Lúcio pouted. “Aw, no fun,” he said, even as he took back his hand.

“Letting you feed me would just make it feel more like that fairy tale,” Ahote said before he bit into the crispy, golden fry. “The one where the witch feeds the kids a lot, so she can eat them.”

Lúcio chuckled. “That makes me sound like a villain!” he accused.

“Well, _I_ don’t know why you’re insisting I eat so often,” Ahote said, polishing off his fry before he reached for another.

“Oh, you mean as often as a healthy person does?” Lúcio asked. “Is ‘I care about your wellbeing’ not a good enough excuse?”

Ahote tried to ignore the light blush the words brought to his face as he pretended to examine the fry he grabbed. “Mmm,” he hummed in thought. “It _might_ be passable. Just because it’s you.”

“Aw, I’m flattered,” Lúcio said, a grin on his face.

“Don’t tell anyone else,” Ahote said. “They can’t know I’m playing favorites.”

“My lips are sealed,” Lúcio replied. “I promise.”

They ate in silence for a few minutes after that. It took Ahote a few moments to smother his grin as he picked at the fries. When he was about halfway done with his tray, Lúcio said, his voice serious, “You don’t trust Cyril.”

Ahote’s hand slowly stopped as he stared down at the fries. “No,” he said. He didn’t meet Lúcio’s gaze, though he could feel it on the side of his face.

“That makes sense,” Lúcio said. “They didn’t tell us much about themselves, did they?”

Ahote shook his head. “Practically nothing,” he said, then glanced at Lúcio. “You sound like you don’t trust them, either.”

Lúcio shrugged a shoulder. “I don’t know,” he said. “They didn’t say much, but...I get the fear of having a lost family member.” When Ahote looked at him expectantly, Lúcio sighed. “My little sister, Antônia. I mean, she wasn’t lost for a long time!” he quickly reassured. “Just...it was scary when she _was_ , you know? I felt like I couldn’t breathe, and I kept having my hopes crushed when I turned a corner and she wasn’t there. I can’t imagine what it’s like for someone who’s been missing their family for a long time.”

Ahote frowned. “That does sound terrible,” he muttered, looking back down at the fries. He didn’t very much feel like eating anymore. “But I can’t help but--” He stopped, shaking his head. “No, it makes me sound bad.”

“You think they might be lying,” Lúcio said. When Ahote nodded, Lúcio shrugged. “They might be. But what you have to ask yourself is….” He hesitated, searching for the right way to phrase it. “...If they’re telling the truth, and you turn them away, would you be able to deal with it?”

Ahote nodded. He hadn’t thought of it like that before; he’d only thought of it as...the unsure being dangerous, he supposed. He liked the way Lúcio put it; he wished he could see like that.

“Anways,” Lúcio said. “Sorry to get so heavy, man; I just...wanted to explain to you, I guess.”

“It’s alright,” Ahote said, looking at Lúcio fully. “It...helped, in a way. I don’t feel so nervous about it anymore.”

Lúcio gave Ahote a grin, then encouraged him to keep eating. They sat there for a while, eating and making jokes with one another.

Nothing else happened that day, save for Corazon returning Ahote’s prosthetics; good as new--better, she insisted. They certainly responded more smoothly, he had to admit.

After he fit his prosthetics on again, Ahote was almost never in his hotel room. He was usually outside--scouting the city, the surrounding area, keeping watch on the parking lot, looking for a cheap place to buy clothes. He only went inside their room when Lúcio caught him and badgered him into trying to sleep, or when he felt like taking a shower.

Though he couldn’t do all he wanted, due to his injuries, he felt too restless to stay still. He hated knowing Talon was still around, but being unable to do anything. He checked the old Talon safehouses that they’d had in Tokyo back in the day, but they were cleaned out. He kept an eye out for Talon members he would know, but the only familiar faces he saw were those in Overwatch.

Having Cyril around didn’t help much, either. Ahote didn’t see them much--they were usually out doing their own scouting, and they were staying in Corazon’s room besides. But he still felt the need to be just a _little_ more careful since they’d joined. He checked more often for cameras and microphones, he played sentry more often than not, and he felt flooded with nerves every time they went with Lúcio somewhere.

Lúcio was a good comfort to Ahote’s anxieties. He usually found a way to make Ahote calm down and breathe, even if just for a few minutes. Genji, too, helped quite a bit with allaying some of Ahote’s more...paranoid fears.

Cyril, however, didn’t help with making Ahote trust them more. In fact, they seemed to enjoy looking as suspicious as possible; whenever Ahote asked them a question, they refused to answer in the most obnoxious way before walking off.

Corazon, meanwhile, seemed more and more trustworthy with each passing day. After she returned Ahote’s prosthetics in working order, he started to realize she really just wanted to help.

About five days after the Talon attack (and two since his prosthetics had been returned), Ahote was sitting at the small table outside his room. It was well past midnight, and he could feel sleep weighing at his eyelids, but he refused to let them close.

It was a warmer night than usual. Ahote’s hoodie was slung over the back of his chair, providing a good cushion. The street was silent; the clubs had long since closed. An opening and closing door down the hall made Ahote look in the direction of the noise.

Someone stepped out of Cyril and Corazon’s room. Ahote tensed in suspicion, until he saw fluffy hair tied back--Corazon. She stood still for a moment, her silhouette watching the street, before she made her way over to Ahote.

“You couldn’t sleep either?” she asked once she was close enough. “Aren’t you tired?”

“Aren’t you?” Ahote asked as Corazon sat down.

“Fair enough,” she said, a smile on her face. “How are your prosthetics working?”

“Like new,” Ahote replied. “Thank you, again.”

Corazon bowed her head. “It was no problem.”

They sat in silence for a moment. Ahote felt a little uncomfortable with Corazon sitting there, but he wouldn’t be rude enough to tell her to go away. Besides, he was sure she didn’t have any malicious intent.

When the silence became too tense for him, Ahote slowly asked, “You’re...with the OPPF?”

Corazon nodded. “I am,” she said.

“Why did you come help us?” Ahote asked. “And stay, I mean. You could go now, if you wanted.”

Corazon shook her head. “I came because Nico needed help,” she said. “But I’m staying because...we were also investigating Orochi. It’s a dangerous program. If Talon uses it, it may have disastrous consequences.”

“You were?” Ahote asked, lofting a brow. “What did you find?”

Corazon shrugged a shoulder. “Not too much, I’m afraid,” she said. “The name ‘Orochi’ didn’t pop up in regards to god programs until after the first Omnic War, so we assume that it changed it had a different name in the past. In its prime, it built omnics made for surveillance and recording purposes.”

Ahote nodded as he absorbed the information. That was likely why the bots had had Shimada guns, and why they’d preferred to use their own methods of combat.

Corazon continued, “The omnium had a closed grid, so when Orochi was based there, its influence was limited. With an open grid, there’s no telling what it will do.” She took a deep breath. “However, that’s all we know. We don’t know what it wants or what its intentions are.”

“And now Talon has it,” Ahote grumbled, staring out at the street. “Great.”

“We will find it, Ahote,” Corazon said. “Besides--silence is good, right? As long as we don’t hear about destruction or anything like that, then that means Orochi is still contained.”

“But we can’t let Talon _keep_ it,” Ahote said. “We have to find them and Orochi as soon as possible.”

“The best we can do for right now,” Corazon said carefully, “is play the waiting game and keep our noses to the ground. We’ll find them, or they’ll show themselves. They can’t hide forever.”

Ahote nodded. He knew Corazon was right, but it was still frustrating. He wanted to do _something_ rather than lie in wait.

“Besides,” Corazon added on, “you and the others still have some serious injuries you need to let heal. This waiting period is a good thing.”

“Yeah,” Ahote sighed. “You’re probably right.”

“Of course I am,” she said. “I’m a doctor.” She stood up. “You should get some rest.”

“So should you,” Ahote said, glancing up at her.

“I’m going to,” she said. “...Eventually.” She nodded at Ahote as she started walking back to her room. “Don’t stay up too much later.”

Ahote gave her a nod in return before he looked back across the street. He stayed out there until the crack of dawn.

They didn’t hear anything that day, or the following day. However, early in the morning of the seventh day after Talon’s attack, they finally got a lead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, hello! Cyril belongs to my friend Alice (who again provided translations!! ilu babe). She can be found at ajliddy.tumblr.com!!


	16. Tip

A week after the Talon attack, Ahote was sitting on the bed with Lúcio, flipping through TV channels. Genji was gone--he’d gone on a scouting mission with a few of the others. Ahote was only distantly registering the changing channels; he hadn’t slept the previous night, and he was feeling the effects as he stared listlessly down at his hands.

When Lúcio stopped on a channel for more than three seconds, though, Ahote knew to listen. He looked up at the screen, taking a moment to focus his hazy vision. It was a news channel; Japanese text littered the screen, and the anchor was talking in Japanese, but Ahote could see the gist of the situation.

The screen was showing a low-quality video from a phone. Flames and smoke filled the air, and there were people running, soot and blood smeared over their faces and clothes. There was no audio, but Ahote could imagine the sounds of terror. An omic came onscreen then, moving slowly and with purpose, unlike the panicking humans around it. Its eyes glowed red as it flicked its gaze directly at the phone. The video abruptly cut out, and the screen returned to the news anchor.

Ahote met Lúcio’s gaze as they looked at one another. “You should call Genji,” Ahote said. “This is probably Orochi.”

Lúcio nodded, leaning to the side to grab his phone. He quickly dialed on it before holding it up to his ear.

“Genji?” Lúcio asked. “Yeah, it’s me. We were watching the news. We think Orochi’s moving.” Lúcio was silent for a moment before he asked, “Wait, you already know? How?”

Ahote frowned, watching Lúcio closely. If Genji already knew, then he must’ve been where the action was. He and the others would likely need help.

Lúcio stood up. “Okay,” he said into the phone. “I’ll grab the others, and we’ll come help.” He was silent for a moment, then said, “Right, see you in a few.”

As Lúcio stood up, Ahote pushed himself to his feet. Lúcio frowned at him, hesitating before he said, “I know you’re gonna insist, but I gotta say it: you shouldn’t come. You’re still recovering.”

Ahote continued to stand up as he said, “Noted.” Once he was standing independently, he locked his eyes on Lúcio. “You saw the video. If the others are anywhere near that, they’ll need all the help they can get.”

“And how much help are you gonna be if you open one of your cuts and pass out?” Lúcio asked. “We’ll be fine without you. There’s, what, nine more of us, now? And we’re all trained, I think, so….” He ended with a shrug.

Ahote frowned, looking at the television screen. They were showing the phone video again. The flames, though pixellated, burned against Ahote’s eyes. That suffering was a direct consequence of Talon taking Orochi. He couldn’t, in good conscience, let the god program run wild while he was sitting in a bed.

Ahote looked back at Lúcio. “I’ll be careful,” he said. “I won’t overextend myself.”

Lúcio watched Ahote closely for a moment. “...Alright,” he finally sighed, shaking his head. “But I know I’m gonna regret not protesting harder.”

“I’ll try to keep that from happening,” Ahote reassured. “I just want to help. I won’t do anything extreme.”

“You better not,” Lúcio said as he walked to the door. Ahote grabbed his shield from the closet, then followed after Lúcio.

“Who’s still here?” Ahote asked, slipping his shield on his forearm, as Lúcio opened the door. “Do you know?”

“Nah,” Lúcio said. Ahote closed the door behind them as Lúcio continued, “We’re gonna find out, though.”

Mostly everyone was gone already, likely out shopping or scouting. McCree, Corazon, Lehana, and Nicola had been out with Genji, scouting. Ahote wasn’t sure where the others were, exactly, but he assumed that Genji had already contacted them, so they were likely on their way.

“Where did Genji tell us to meet him?” Ahote asked Lúcio as they made their way through the parking lot.

“He said he’d be near here,” Lúcio replied. “He’s bringing the car to come pick us up.” They stepped onto the sidewalk.

“That’s a relief,” Ahote muttered. He was already aching, and they hadn’t walked very far at all. Each step tugged painfully at the wound on his back and his side. He grit his teeth and ignored the pain.

“There he is,” Lúcio said as Genji’s car slowly creeped in front of them. Once it came to a stop, Lúcio opened the door. “After you,” he said, waving Ahote in.

Ahote climbed in slowly, his wounds aching in protest as he clambered into the far back seat. Lehana was back there as well, staring out the window at the random passersby as Ahote slowly sat in the middle seat. Everyone seemed to be in casual clothes; Genji had a baseball hat on his head, Corazon was in a yellow sundress, and McCree didn’t have a sarape or body armor on. Ahote clipped his seatbelt on as Lúcio sat to his right.

“Welcome t’the party bus,” McCree drawled from the front passenger seat. “Time t’go kick some omnic ass.”

“Jesse,” Corazon said in a warning tone of voice.

McCree sighed. “And by ‘kick omnic ass,’ I mean defend innocent humans from misguided omnics while tryna find a fix fer ‘em.” He glanced back at Corazon, who was sitting behind the driver’s seat. “Happy?”

Corazon nodded approvingly as the car lurched forward.

“Have you been to the scene yet?” Ahote asked the others in the car, though he looked at Genji as he asked.

“No,” Genji replied. “We heard about it on the radio, and saw it from a distance, but decided we would need backup before we went in.”

“That was probably a good idea,” Lúcio said. “We saw some of it on the news and it looks _bad_. None of the others were at the motel--did you call them, too?”

“I did,” Lehana said. “They should be on their ways over.”

“Great,” Lúcio said. “So, what’s the plan? Focus on evacuation and clue-hunting?”

Genji nodded, glancing over his shoulder as he switched lanes. “Yes,” he said. “We must save as many people as we can, and figure out how to stop Orochi.”

“Aren’t we still undercover?” Ahote asked. “Once we go in there and start rescuing people, it’ll look like Overwatch is back.”

The other passengers were silent for a moment before Corazon said, “Any legal repercussions for Overwatch coming back should be secondary to saving lives--both human and omnic.”

“Cory is correct,” Genji agreed. “Right now, the most important thing to do is what Overwatch has always done--protect. The UN can do with us as they please after we have done our job.”

“We should warn Winston,” Lúcio said. “Give him as much time as possible to get ready for the storm.”

“That’s a fair idea,” McCree said. “Rookie?”

“Do you know how to work a phone at all?” Lehana asked, even as she pulled a phone out of her pocket.

“‘Course I do,” McCree replied.

“Then why don’t you?” Lehana challenged as she tapped on her phone.

“Stop whinin’,” McCree said with a wave of his hand. “Yer already callin’ ‘im.”

Corazon leaned toward Lehana to whisper to her, “His pants are too tight to get his phone out of his pocket.”

“Cory!” McCree protested. “Here I thought I could trust ya!”

“Sorry,” Corazon said with a smile as she settled back in her seat. “It’s payback for ‘kick some omnic ass.’”

McCree grumbled something under his breath and slouched in his seat. Once Lehana greeted Winston on the other end of her phone, the car remained silent until she ended the call.

“Winston’s in the loop,” she said. “He doesn’t _really_ like what we’re doin’, but he gets it.”

The car coasted to a halt. “We’re here,” Genji announced.

Ahote looked out the window as everyone else climbed out. The street seemed to be filled with people coughing, holding bloodied wounds, and sobbing. There were some officials in uniforms, but the majority was civilians.

As Ahote climbed out of the vehicle, he watched his surroundings with wide eyes. It would be easy to get separated or lost in the chaos. He would have to be careful, he thought as a taller man bumped into him. Ahote stumbled backwards a little bit, but regained his composure and stepped forward, next to Lúcio.

“Where are we meeting everyone?” Lúcio asked, watching Lehana.

“Here,” Lehana said with a shrug. “They must not be here yet.”

“I suppose we are going to wait for them?” Nicola asked.

Genji kept his gaze on the flood of civilians, a thoughtful expression on his face. “No,” he finally said. “We must help these people now.” He looked back at the others. “Protect and escort out. This is not an offensive mission.” He glanced at Corazon. “Don’t kill any omnics; they are unaware of their actions. If you find leads to Orochi, tell us over comms.” Genji swept his gaze over the group. “Any questions?”

”We can jus’ waltz right in?” McCree asked. “Ain’t there a perimeter?”

“They have not set up a perimeter here yet,” Genji replied. “That will change. We must be quick.” When McCree nodded, Genji asked, “Anyone else?”

Nobody answered. Genji nodded. “Okay,” he said. “Good luck. Be careful.”

Ahote stepped forward when everyone else did, but before he got very far, someone stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. He twisted his head to look behind him at the owner of the hand--Lúcio. He had a worried furrow between his brows.

“Lúcio?” Ahote asked.

“You remember what you promised, right?” Lúcio asked. “Don’t go overboard?”

Ahote nodded. “Of course. It was only a few minutes ago, Lúcio.”

“I’m serious,” Lúcio said. “If you see anything that’s outside of escorting or protecting someone, I want you to call someone, okay?”

Ahote nodded. “I will,” he reassured. “I promise.”

Lúcio watched Ahote for another moment searchingly before he nodded and released his shoulder. “Stay safe,” he said.

“You, too,” Ahote replied before he faced forward again and started walking.

It didn’t take long for Ahote to lose sight of the others. Smoke was thick in the air, and the woody smell of fire was suffocating. At the beginning, he had to continuously point the way to safety for fleeing civilians, but the farther in he went, the less people he saw. Eventually, it was only him stepping through the crumbling buildings, squinting his eyes against the smoke and flames and holding his forearm in front of his face. Only the crackling of fire reached his ears. Nobody spoke over the comms.

Ahote let out a cough to clear the smoke out of his lungs. His abdomen gave a tortured twinge, and he had to inhale sharply at the pain. He moved forward, though, spurred on by the thought of someone needing help.

Ahote stopped walking when he heard a shuddering inhale of breath. He looked to the side, at a house he could’ve sworn the breath came from, and pushed his way through an open door. The heat inside the walls hit Ahote’s face like a bat, but he forced his way through.

He heard a sob. “Hello?” Ahote called, stepping carefully through the house. It was relatively intact, and he was glad the floor didn’t give way under him.

Nobody answered, but as he rounded a corner, he saw a woman with long, black hair sitting next to a pile of debris--the ceiling had caved in.

“Ma’am?” Ahote asked warily as he slowly approached the woman. “Can you mo--”

She whirled around, looking up at Ahote with tear-stained cheeks. Her eyes were full of hope, fear, and desperation. She rushed towards him, grabbing his hand. Ahote tried to pull away from her grip, but she towed him to the pile of debris. “Shisoku!” she all but shouted, pointing at the debris. “Shisoku! Shisoku!”

Ahote suddenly wished very much he spoke Japanese as he untangled his hand from the woman’s. “Okay,” he said, trying to maintain a reassuring tone of voice. “Alright, I’ll look.”

Ahote got on his knees as the woman stood at his side, nervously wringing her hands and stepping side to side. He made sure to keep her in his periphery as he sifted through the rubble; he didn’t want to be ambushed.

After he threw some large pieces of wood to the side, Ahote saw a tiny, dusty hand. A sense of urgency surged through him, and he attacked the debris much more quickly. After a few moments, he unearthed the top half of a young boy, about ten years old. He was unconscious, and covered in soot. His lower half was pinned under a large beam of wood.

Ahote threw his shoulder against the beam. The cut on his shoulder all but whined in pain, but Ahote grit his teeth and ignored it as he pushed with all his might against the beam. He felt it lift a few inches. He’d been planning to push it all the way off, but he was relieved when the woman rushed forward and swiftly pulled the boy out from under the wood.

Once the child’s legs were clear, Ahote let the wood fall with a loud thud, panting a little. His shoulder ached as he stood up, watching the woman curl around the boy and sob into his hair. Ahote felt a sharp twinge in his heart that made the wound in his shoulder pale in comparison.

They had to move, though; he hesitantly reached forward, brushing the woman’s shoulder. She looked up at him, new tears escaping from her eyes.

“We need to go,” Ahote said, jerking his head towards the exit. “It’s not safe here.”

The woman glanced at the door before she nodded--understanding, Ahote hoped. She slowly stood up, clutching the little boy to her chest as she stepped through the house. Ahote followed after her, keeping an eye out for other potential disasters.

Once they stepped out onto the street, the woman looked at Ahote with wide eyes. He gave her (what he hoped was) a reassuring smile. “Follow me,” he said, then started to walk down the street, pausing until she started to walk after him.

Ahote quickly led them through the streets. Before he rounded each corner, he ensured there were no rampaging omnics before pressing forward. He was lucky; they didn’t meet any resistance as they made their way through. Once Ahote reached the exit from the ruined neighborhood, he stopped and motioned the woman through. She looked out towards the officials, then up at Ahote. There were still tears in her eyes.

“Doumo arigatou gozaimasu,” she whispered reverently at him. Ahote could only manage a confused smile and a nod in response before she shuffled off, towards the police.

Ahote watched after her for a moment before he stepped back into the burning neighborhood. There wasn’t a stream of people running out anymore; Ahote guessed all the able-bodied people had mostly escaped. Once Ahote reached the house the woman had been in, he started walking more carefully, listening and keeping watch for anything out of the smoky ordinary.

Ahote saw some lights from omnics in the distance at times. Whenever he did, though, his promise to Lúcio rang through his head, and he ducked into the nearest building until the bot passed.

After a while, Ahote came across someone lying on the side of the road. He crouched down and held two fingers to their neck; when he didn’t feel a pulse, he frowned, stood up, and moved on. At that point, Ahote found a lot of people lying immobile in the street. He made sure to check every person for signs of life. Most of them were dead, but he kept going on, sure there would be just _one_ alive.

Eventually, Ahote did feel a weak, weak pulse from an older man (in his seventies, if Ahote had to guess). Ahote carefully lifted the man, looking for any injuries; he had a shallow cut along his chest, but otherwise, he was fine.

Ahote carefully fit his arms under the man’s legs and the man’s arms around his neck, so he was snug on Ahote’s back, before he started the trek back to the safe zone. Ahote stepped briskly, but tried to walk gently, for the old man’s sake; he didn’t want to jostle him too much.

Ahote reached the safe zone without too much fuss; he passed the man to a paramedic, then immediately turned on his heel and walked back to the burning neighborhood.

“Hora!” an officer shouted from behind Ahote. “Matte!” Ahote ignored the shout--it was likely to get him to wait, to keep from going into the neighborhood.

“Tomare!” the same voice shouted. Ahote glanced over his shoulder, and saw a police officer power-walking towards him. Ahote started walking more quickly.

“Hairanai!” the officer shouted, just as the smoke swallowed Ahote again. Ahote accidentally inhaled too deeply, and he started coughing, though he kept walking.

Genji’s voice crackled over the comms then. “I have found a lead,” he said. “Meet me in front of the large...fish creature as soon as you are able. All of you.”

“Fish creature?” Nicola asked, as Ahote looked around the skyline, still coughing.

“It is green,” Genji supplied helplessly. “It is on top of a building, north of the entrance.”

“I see it,” Ahote rasped into the comm once his eyes landed on a silhouette that seemed vaguely fish-y. It was difficult to spy through the smoke, but he wasn’t sure what else Genji could’ve meant.

“Ahote?” Lúcio asked over the comms. “You okay?”

“Fine,” Ahote responded, his voice tight, as he walked towards what he thought was the fish creature. “Just a lot of smoke.”

“Must suck to have to breathe,” Cyril’s voice butted in. “Organic life seems _super_ fuckin’ hard, huh?”

“Let us not start a fight over comms,” Nicola said. “We must regroup, as Genji has requested.”

“Thank you, Nico,” Genji said. “I will see you all in a few moments.”

Ahote rounded a corner, catching sight of three silhouettes through the smoke. Two were facing one, as if having a discussion. As Ahote approached, his eyes squinted against the burning fog, he began to hear voices.

“...are coming,” Genji’s voice carried over. “Please be patient.”

“I’ve all the time in the world,” a familiar, feminine voice replied coolly. Ahote nearly froze at the voice, though his heart did stop.

He hoped for the best, though expected the worst, as he continued to approach. After a moment, he was only a few meters away, and could see the group through the smoke. Genji was there, of course, with Lúcio. When Ahote saw who they were facing, his throat clenched: Kronos.

Ahote didn’t know what to say as he approached, his gaze riveted on Kronos. They were negotiating with _her_? Why? What good could possibly come of it? As more questions filled his mind, he felt rage pumping through his veins.

“Ahote!” Lúcio called. Ahote forced himself to break his eyes from Kronos, swivelling them to look at Lúcio. He was walking towards Ahote, a frown on his face.

“Oh, Cheveyo!” Kronos greeted, her voice delighted. Ahote instantly snapped his gaze back at her, fire in his eyes. “I’m so glad you’re joining us!”

“Don’t call me that,” Ahote snapped, his hands curling into fists. “What are you doing here?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” Kronos asked, leaning on her scythe. “I’m here to help.”

“Bullshit,” Ahote spat, taking a step forward. He would’ve gone farther, but Lúcio set a hand on his shoulder, holding him back--probably. “You _caused_ this!”

“Well,” Kronos said with a shrug of her shoulder, “you know what they say about hindsight being twenty-twenty.”

“What does--?!” Ahote started to shout, but Lúcio cut him off.

“Aho,” he said. “Calm down. She’ll explain once everyone else gets here.”

Ahote could feel the hatred boiling just under his skin, and arguments crowded against the walls of his mind, but he pressed his lips together and forced himself to fall silent. He continued to watch Kronos like a hawk as he fumed next to Lúcio.

After a few minutes, everyone else wandered up (including those who hadn’t come in with Genji’s group). Lúcio stayed rooted next to Ahote, which Ahote was grateful for; he knew he would’ve attacked Kronos if Lúcio wasn’t there.

“Cool scythe,” Cyril said as they dropped down from the roof of the building above the group. “Aren’t you super fuckin’ evil, though?”

“That’s all subjective,” Kronos dismissed as she looked back at Genji. “Is this everyone?”

Genji nodded. “Speak fast,” he said.

“I’ll speak however I please,” Kronos said. Before anyone could respond, she continued, “I’ve decided to give you all a tip, seeing as you’re struggling _so_ hard with this whole god program thing.”

Ahote crossed his arms. He knew they wouldn’t be able to trust the tip at all. He hoped the others knew that as well.

Kronos pulled a small slip of paper out from her dress. She held it between two fingers. “This is the address where you’ll find the thumb drive that Orochi is on,” she said. “It’s still there; you just need to unplug it and all this will be over.”

“‘N’ why should we trust you?” McCree asked, his thumbs looped in the pockets of his pants. “Y’all were _real_ keen on gettin’ th’god program in th’first place.”

“We had plans for it,” Kronos said. “We...lost control of it. This,” she said, glancing at the burning buildings around them, “wasn’t meant to happen.”

“Then why not get it yourself?” Rorth asked. “Clean up your own mess?”

A frown quirked Kronos’ lips for a moment. “Talon doesn’t think we _should_ clean up this mess,” she said carefully. “I do. That should make it obvious, if you’ve half a brain.”

Ahote couldn’t hold back his snort of derision at the insincerity. Kronos frowned at him. “Do you have something to ask, _Cheveyo_?” she asked.

“How can you think we’d listen to you?” Ahote asked. “All you’ve been doing is attacking and trying to kill us, and now you want us to think you’re _helping_?”

“I _am_ helping,” Kronos said. “These people were never supposed to die.”

“When has that ever mattered to you?” Ahote asked, taking a step forward. “You relish in death! You laugh in joy whenever you see it!”

“This is mindless slaughter,” Kronos said. “There’s no joy to be found here--it was the result of a mistake, and one that must be corrected. Do you want to right this or not?”

Ahote opened his mouth to respond, but Genji smoothly cut in, “We do.” Ahote met Genji’s gaze, then closed his mouth and stepped back, glaring at Kronos.

As Genji stepped forward to take the paper from Kronos, Ahote fumed. He didn’t want to think Genji was genuinely considering using this information--but why else would he have taken the paper? Why else was he letting Kronos walk away, without so much as a punch? Ahote felt the urge to go after her, to continue arguing, but before he could follow it, Lúcio brushed his arm.

Ahote forced his eyes to look away from Kronos’ smoke-obscured back and at Lúcio. Lúcio had a furrow between his brows as he watched Ahote closely. “Are you alright?” he asked quietly.

Ahote nodded, his jaw set stubbornly. “Fine,” he said. He looked up at Genji. “When are we gonna throw that address away?”

Genji frowned down at the paper in his hands. After a moment, he said, “We are going back to the safehouse--to discuss what to do.”

Ahote blinked in shock. He opened his mouth to express his shock, but everyone nodded and started moving, so he closed his mouth again and followed after them, casting glances around them to ensure nobody (specifically Kronos or Talon) was following them.

He wanted to argue, but he didn’t know what to say. He was shocked that anyone would even consider _thinking_ about Kronos’ offer. How could he tell them that she was lying because she was pure evil and didn’t have a redeemable bone in her body? They didn’t know what she’d done, what she’d forced him to do; they didn’t know the depths of her depravity.

The ride back to the safehouse, Ahote tried to come to grips with the fact that not everyone thought Kronos was completely untrustworthy, but he couldn’t quite do it. Lúcio tried to talk to him, but Ahote was too focused on how he’d try to convince everyone to see his point of view. He had to make them see how bad Kronos was, or they’d fall into a trap and get themselves killed--or worse. He couldn’t let that happen, even if he didn’t trust all of them. Ahote wouldn’t wish Talon’s worst on anyone, not even those he despised most.

They gathered in Lehana and Hanzo’s room. Ahote stood near the door, his arms crossed and tense. He kept glancing behind him at the door every few seconds as everyone settled. He felt jumpier than he would’ve had Kronos outright attacked them. He wished they’d encountered a fight on the way back.

Ahote locked his attention to the discussion as Genji said, holding up the slip of paper, “What does everyone think of this information?”

“It would be foolish to follow it,” Hanzo said. “This woman has proven she cannot be trusted.”

“But it’s the best lead we have,” Elisa said. “We haven’t gotten anything else to look at. The longer we wait to find information, the more people will get hurt.”

“And if we die, because it’s an ambush?” Ahote asked. “Then we can’t do anything to help.”

“I think you are underestimating our abilities, Ahote,” Nicola said.

“I’m not,” Ahote argued, focusing his glare on the Italian. “We’ve been attacked by Talon twice, and both times, we’ve only been spared because they got what they wanted.”

“Both times they took us by surprise,” Lehana said. “If we go in ready for a fight, then we’ll win. Easy.”

Ahote snorted. “And if Kronos is there, and manages to paralyze all of us?” he asked. “She stops you just by touching you. How can we fight against that?”

“Maybe she stops _you_ ,” Cyril said. “I’m immune to her shit.”

“She has a giant scythe that can slice you in half,” Ahote said, glaring at Cyril.

“I’m fast,” Cyril replied.

“We’re digressing,” Rorth said. “The important thing is getting Orochi out of those omnics, and keeping more people from getting hurt. If this helps, then we should go ahead and do it--even if it’s an ambush.”

“It’s an ambush,” Ahote insisted. “There’s no _if_ about it.”

“We can go there, scout it out, and decide there if it’s too fishy,” Lúcio suggested. “There’s no reason we have to go in right when we get there.”

“Nothing good will come of going there in the first place,” Ahote said. “Kronos is planning to get us all in one place so she can somehow end us, and Talon can continue their plans with Orochi.”

“She did say they lost control of it,” Elisa put forth.

“She was lyin’,” McCree said. “Helped to get us on her side.”

“Look,” Cyril said, “lyin’ or not, we have to go. Like short bitch said--”

“Elisa,” Elisa interrupted.

“--we haven’t got any other leads,” Cyril finished. “We know Talon’s got Orochi. We find Talon, we find more leads.”

Nobody raised an argument against that, and Ahote frowned. “Are you all serious?” he asked. When everyone looked at him, expressions somber, he crossed his arms. “How can you all not get it? Talon is dangerous. If you underestimate them, or Kronos, then you’ll die!”

“Ahote,” Genji said carefully, “we understand your ties with Talon, but--”

“You don’t,” Ahote said, forcing himself to keep his voice in check. As he spoke, however, he slowly grew louder. “You haven’t been in their ranks! You haven’t seen what the training’s like, what the missions are like, what their prep is like. When they set a trap, they set a trap! We won’t get close without them allowing it! Once we step foot in a certain perimeter, they’ll know our every move!”

Everyone stared at Ahote silently until Cyril said, “You’re fuckin’ paranoid, dude.”

Ahote turned his gaze on Cyril’s uncaring half-moon eyes. He opened his mouth to respond, but anger made him shut his mouth. Frustration made him turn on his heel and storm out of the room, out into the humid summer air.

The door slammed shut behind Ahote with a loud bang of finality. He didn’t care; rage powered his legs, and before he knew it, he was halfway across the parking lot, fire thrumming through his veins.

He almost didn’t stop when he heard someone call his name. He didn’t want to talk--he wanted to walk, he wanted to run and keep running until there was no more breath left in his lungs. He froze, though, still facing forward, ready to run.

He didn’t turn around as he heard someone approach, their sneakers slapping against the ground as they jogged up to him. Lúcio came into his view then, looking bewildered.

“Ahote,” Lúcio said. “What was that all about?!” he asked. Ahote didn’t answer, instead opting to press his lips together and stare down at Lúcio. “Talk to me!”

“She’s lying,” Ahote seethed. “They can’t _see_ that we can’t trust her.”

“But if she isn’t?” Lúcio asked.

“She _is_ ,” Ahote insisted, quickly losing control of his volume. “When we get there, there’ll be an ambush or a trap and she’ll be there, waiting to take you away from me!”

“Ahote,” Lúcio said. “That’s crazy, man. She said it herse--”

Ahote interrupted, too frantic to listen. “We can’t trust her!”

“We don’t have any other leads!” Lúcio replied, getting fed up as well. Ahote felt a pang of regret, but he couldn’t stop.

Before he could think, he nearly shouted, “She killed my mother!” He continued, unable to plug the flow of words as he shook, “Right in front of me, on the floor. I couldn’t help her--I won’t let that happen to you!”

Lúcio stared at Ahote, dumbfounded. Ahote kept going, his volume more controlled, “Hopi tradition says that when a person dies, their oldest son has to bury them. I was her oldest son, but I couldn’t bury her. What if she can’t find peace because of that? What if she’s--”

Ahote stopped as his voice broke. He quickly looked down and to the side as tears welled up in his eyes. He was grateful his hair covered his face. He shook harder, with rage and despair and unshed tears.

“The callsign, too,” Ahote said, talking to fill the silence, to get everything off of his chest before he exploded, as he continued to stare at the ground. “ _Cheveyo_ ,” he spat. “To add insult to injury. It’s an ogre katsina.” When he realized Lúcio likely didn’t know what that meant, he amended, “It’s--he...Cheveyo is like the boogeyman. Meant to scare kids.” He clenched his fists. “She named me after a monster.”

“Ahote,” Lúcio said gently. “I...I had no idea.”

Ahote shook his head, turning his body to the side. “It’s--it’s fine,” he said, still not looking at Lúcio. “It doesn’t change anything. Forget it. I was just being childish and stubborn.”

Lúcio didn’t respond verbally. Ahote heard him take a step. He felt his heart fall; he should’ve known Lúcio wouldn’t want to deal with--

Ahote froze, paralyzed, as Lúcio came back into view and wrapped his arms around Ahote. He was...warm. Ahote’s heart ached. Normally, he would’ve fought to get out of the hug, but with Lúcio, he...liked it. He felt like he’d been missing something for a long time, and he’d just found it again.

Ahote hesitated before he wrapped his own arms around Lúcio and buried his face in Lúcio’s shoulder, still shaking. He tried to hold in the tears, but after a moment, they slipped out.

“I’m--I’m sorry,” Ahote mumbled into Lúcio’s shoulder. “I’m a mess. This isn’t your problem.”

“It was my problem as soon as we became friends,” Lúcio said, rubbing Ahote’s back. “You don’t have to carry this alone, Aho.”

Ahote’s only response was to tighten his arms around Lúcio. He didn’t feel as bad as he’d thought he would after telling Lúcio the whole story. Lúcio’s arms around Ahote grounded him, made him able to focus on something real rather than the memories. He didn’t want to move from that position, even after the tears stopped.

“Do you feel better now?” Lúcio asked gently. “Can we talk?”

Ahote nodded. He reluctantly pulled himself out of Lúcio’s arms as he reached up to wipe away some stray tears. “I’m fine,” he sniffled, eyes cast downward.

After a moment, Lúcio asked, “Do you remember what I said after Cyril joined? About the possibility of truth outweighing the consequences of a lie?”

Ahote nodded.

“If Kronos is telling the truth,” Lúcio said slowly, “then we have the chance to end Orochi’s slaughter here. If we ignore her, then it may go on for a long time. Lots more people would die.”

“...And if she’s lying?” Ahote asked, looking hesitantly up at Lúcio.

“Then we get ambushed,” Lúcio said. “But nothing bad will happen, because we’ll be together, and we can beat back anything.”

Ahote pressed his lips together, thinking it over, before he nodded. “You’re...right,” he sighed. “I’m sorry. I let her get to my head. I let _Talon_ get to my head.”

“Don’t apologize,” Lúcio said. “With something that heavy, I’m amazed it didn’t happen sooner.” He gave Ahote a small grin as he said, “You’ve got some good restraint.”

Ahote mirrored Lúcio’s grin. After a moment, he said, “...Thank you. For coming after me, for listening.” He hesitated before he added on, “You’ve been a great friend, Lúcio. I’m...I’m glad we met.”

“Ah, stop, you’re gonna make me cry,” Lúcio replied playfully. Soberly, he added, “But for what it’s worth, I like you, Aho. I’ll always come after you, and be there to listen.”

Ahote nodded. “Thank you,” he murmured. “I...hope you know I feel the same way.”

“I’ve been getting that vibe,” Lúcio said, smiling at Ahote. “Do you want to go back, now? See what great plan they come up with? We have like, five scientists in there--it should be good.”

“Sure,” Ahote said with a nod.

He felt a little silly as he walked back at Lúcio’s side, but he couldn’t deny he also felt a lot more free. His fears about following Kronos’ tip weren’t completely gone, but he hoped that things would turn out fine. They _had_ to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the longass pause ;o; I had to move into uni and that was An Experience. but i haven't given up on this fic!! my boys must be happy!!
> 
> Alice provided translations for this chapter as well!!!! bless u alice!! She can be found at ajliddy.tumblr.com, pls go give her the most love


	17. Orochi

After Ahote returned with Lúcio to the meeting room, it was fairly awkward. Ahote resolved to keep his mouth shut for the rest of the night, though the others still seemed a little uneasy with his outburst. He felt a vague sense of shame, but was otherwise numb in the way one gets after they show a lot of emotion.

He wasn’t thrilled with the plan they decided on--it essentially boiled down to “get to the building and figure it out from there.” They didn’t have many alternatives, though; without knowing what the building looked like, and without knowing what would be there, they had a limited amount of options.

Thus, it was with only a little (read: a _lot_ of) apprehension that Ahote, donning a hoodie (he was quickly running out) and standing on a roof with some of the others, found himself staring down at the warehouse that Kronos had led them to. It was in the heart of the destroyed sector. Getting to it hadn’t been a struggle, surprisingly; they hadn’t come across any omnic resistance.

Ahote understood why that had been as soon as he laid eyes on the warehouse. It was crawling with omnics--standing guard outside, walking along the roof, and walking a perimeter that ran a few blocks wide.

“Wonder where th’party’s at?” McCree scoffed over the comms. Ahote could see McCree’s cowboy hat-topped silhouette on the next building over, accompanied by Corazon’s, Nicola’s, and Cyril’s silhouettes.

“I’m counting at least twenty-five omnics out here,” Rorth said over the comms. He stood on the building to the other side of Ahote’s, joined by Elisa, Hanzo, and Lehana. “We have a plan, right? Please tell me we’re not just charging in there.”

“Well, let’s look at our resources,” Elisa said. “We have a view of _this_ side of the building, no floorplan, no way to know how many omnics are inside, and a group of eleven individuals. What does that say to you, Rorth?”

“It says we’re charging in,” Rorth grumbled lamely.

“You may stay behind and keep watch for us if you would like, Rorth,” Genji proffered from next to Ahote.

“No way!” Rorth said. “I’m not missing this for anything.”

“It would be wise to keep a lookout,” Hanzo said. “To alert those inside of any incoming reinforcements.”

“Are there any volunteers?” Genji asked.

Ahote pressed his lips together, staring resolutely at the warehouse as Lúcio shifted a little next to him. Ahote would go in. If it was a trap set by Talon, he wanted to be able to help the others. If it wasn’t a trap, they would need every available hand possible.

When nobody said anything, Genji said, “Alright--”

He was interrupted when Elisa chirped, “A-actually!”

“Elisa?” Genji asked.

Elisa coughed into her mic, then said, “I could stay behind! If we all need, I mean. I don’t mind missing all the fun!” She laughed nervously.

“If you are sure, Elisa,” Genji said. “Thank you.”

“Yep!” she replied, too quickly. “N-no problem! Happy to help!”

“Are you good?” Cyril asked. “You sound like you inhaled too much helium.”

“I’m--uh, perfectly fine,” Elisa said, lowering her voice as she spoke. “Cool as a, um, cucumber. Why?”

“We are wasting time,” Hanzo said. “We must get moving, before Orochi notices we are here.”

“Calm down, Han,” McCree drawled. “Yer th’one that wanted a lookout.”

“My name is Hanzo,” Hanzo replied, clipped and curt. “Not _Han_.”

“ _Now_ who’s wastin’ time?” McCree asked. Ahote could hear the self-satisfied smirk in his voice.

“Baka gaijin,” Hanzo spat.

“Stop,” Genji’s voice cut cleanly through the squabble. “Hanzo is right: we must move now. Get back to the street, and wait for my signal before you do anything.”

Ahote turned his back to the edge of the roof as a chorus of affirmations sounded over the comms. He started to walk toward the exit of the roof, but a hand on his shoulder stopped him. Ahote rolled the hand off his shoulder by reflex as he twisted his neck to look at the owner: Lúcio.

“Are you okay, man?” Lúcio asked, a worried frown on his face. “Are you gonna _be_ okay?”

Ahote glanced to the side before he answered, catching sight of Genji watching--and probably listening to--the conversation. Ahote nodded, returning his gaze to Lúcio. “I’ll be fine,” he promised.

“Even if it’s an ambush?” Lúcio challenged. “No tunnel-vision, right?”

Ahote nodded again. “No tunnel-vision,” he said.

Lúcio watched Ahote for a moment before he nodded. “Okay,” he said slowly. “Good. Let’s get down there, now, huh?”

Ahote nodded silently before he faced forward, and exited the roof. On the ground level, he could see the others (minus Elisa)--hidden behind rubble and cars, still watching the entrance of the warehouse closely. The cloying scent of smoke still hung in the air like a warm blanket. Ahote crouched behind a car uneasily, peeking his head over it to view the entrance as Lúcio and Genji crouched next to him.

There were four stationary omnics--two on each side of the door. The bots moving around the street did so mostly in pairs; marching down the road like soldiers, side-by-side. Ahote couldn’t tell which omnics were civilians, and which were ones that had been in the omnium. He supposed there wasn’t much difference at that moment.

“Remember to keep combat nonlethal,” Genji said, broadcasting over comms. “Disable the omnics--do not kill them.”

“Easier said’n done,” McCree grumbled over the line.

“Jesse,” Corazon said warningly.

“Never said I wouldn’t comply, sweetheart,” McCree said. “Y’worry too much.”

“She is right to worry,” Genji said. “Is everyone ready?”

Ahote looked down at his hands as everyone chorused a _ready!_. He flicked a switch on his robotic arm, then turned a small knob with his thumb. The blue light in his palm dimmed as he turned the knob. Ahote nodded then, and said over his own comms, “Ready.”

“Good,” Genji said. “On my mark, Malocchio and Hanzo will take out the four flanking the door,” he continued.

“Anything for you,” Nicola said.

“Understood,” Hanzo replied.

After waiting a beat, Genji said, “Now!”

Ahote watched Nicola look above the turned-over car he was hiding behind. He pulled up his gun--a sniper rifle--and quickly aimed and shot at the two omnics on the right, the shots strangely silent. The bullets impacted the body, but Ahote didn’t see a hole as a quiet buzzing sound filled the air for a moment. The omnics dropped, Hanzo’s dealt with similarly.

“Well done,” Genji encouraged. He popped up, glancing up and down the street before he said, “Go inside the warehouse--quickly.”

Ahote placed his hands on the trunk of the car in front of him, vaulting himself up and over it, as the others moved forward. He forced himself not to be distracted by all the movement in his periphery--they made him nervous, they could’ve been enemies--as he ran to the door of the warehouse.

Lúcio got to the door first. He tried the handle, then sighed and rolled back away from the door as the others arrived.

“Anyone know how to pick a lock?” Lúcio asked, gaze sweeping over everyone.

Ahote nearly moved forward--he knew he could open the door one way or another.

Ahote stopped as Cyril said, “Fuck _that_!” They kicked a foot forward, cracking next to the handle and denting the metal of the door, which swung open.

“Whoa!” Lúcio said, jumping back from the suddenly-open door. He looked at Cyril, his eyes wide. “Uh...good job.”

“It’s all about the skill,” Cyril said, a smug tone in their voice as they stepped through the door. “Welcome to my fuckhouse.”

Everyone else followed Cyril slowly, Ahote pushing in close to Lúcio as they walked in together. Ahote, trying to ignore Lúcio’s warmth against his side, kept his eyes wide open, peering around as best he could with everyone all but towering over him. He let out a breath of relief he hadn’t known he’d been holding as everyone dispersed in the dark room.

Ahote remained tensed. It felt too much like the omnium--too much like a trap. There seemed to be two other doorways to the empty room they stood in. Ahote strained his ears, but could only hear the footsteps of omnics walking in other rooms.

Genji stopped, waiting for something--probably for Talon agents to jump out of the rafters. When none did, he quietly whispered, “We will split up here, to cover more ground--”

Lehana interrupted, “That’s how people get killed in horror movies, Genji.” When Genji trained his gaze on her, obviously unhappy even with the helmet masking his face, she whispered even more softly, “Just saying.”

Genji shook his head before he continued. “I will go with Lúcio, Ahote, Cyril, and Malocchio through that door.” He motioned to the closer of the two doors. “The rest of you will follow McCree through the other. If you find Orochi, wait for the other group before you engage.”

“‘N’ if we get Talon instead?” McCree asked. Ahote was distantly surprised he could be so quiet.

“Notify the others,” Genji said. “Proceed as planned.”

“Got it,” McCree drawled.

They parted ways then, McCree’s group heading for the other door. Ahote was relieved he would be able to stay at Lúcio’s side; he had the feeling something awful was going to happen in that warehouse, and he wanted to make sure it didn’t happen to Lúcio. _Or anyone else,_ he reminded himself strictly.

Once they stepped through the door, the building seemed to turn into a maze of doors and hallways and rooms. Genji insisted they stick together and not divide up their forces further, which Ahote was grateful for.

After they’d turned down several corridors, they froze at the sound of a loud bang. Ahote whipped his head around to peer behind them, sure it would be an omnic following them.

“Well,” McCree’s voice crackled over the comms, “I got good news, ‘n’ I got bad news.”

“Spit it out, cowboy fucker,” Cyril said impatiently.

“Hey!” McCree replied, indignant. “Who ever said--”

“We came across a bot and incapacitated it,” Hanzo said loudly, cutting the argument short. Once the others weren’t bickering, he said more quietly, “There will be more coming, surely.”

“Thank you, Hanzo,” Genji said. “We will be quiet. Orochi may not yet know--”

Genji was cut off as an omnic, glowing red eyes stark in the darkness, rounded the corner. It stared at them.

“So much for _that_ ,” Cyril grumbled, not over comms.

They stared at the omnic until the omnic said, quietly, “I remember you.” The voice was intimately familiar--Ahote _knew_ it, he was sure, but he couldn’t place the omnic’s face.

“Stop fuckin’ with us, A-hole,” Cyril said. Ahote assumed they were speaking to the bot, but when he glanced at Cyril, their violet half-moon stare was levelled on him.

Ahote frowned, glancing at the others--who were also staring at him. His mind wondered for a moment, before it occurred to him, and he nailed his eyes to the omnic.

“I didn’t say anything,” Ahote said. “It was the omnic.”

Everyone’s gazes returned to the omnic as Cyril’s voice emanated from it, “You’re Overwatch, right?” It sounded just like them--if a little staticky.

“Get my words outta your fuckin’ mouth, you murderous piece of shit!” Cyril--the real Cyril--shouted, stepping forward.

“Chill out,” the omnic said, still using Cyril’s voice. Then, with Lúcio’s, full of laughter, “That makes me sound like a villain!”

“Eesh,” Lúcio grumbled. “This is creepy.”

Ahote nodded, silently agreeing. He remembered the conversation that particular line came from; to imagine they’d had someone listening in made his blood boil.

“Ignore it,” Genji said. “It is distracting us. This changes nothing. Dispatch it and move on.”

“I would be honored, cicci,” Nicola said. He collapsed his sniper rifle and pulled it apart, two pistols forming from the metallic body. Ahote tried not to be impressed.

As Nicola lined up his shot, the omnic said with Lúcio’s voice, “Aw, no fun!” Before it could get anything else out, Nicola fired a single pistol, the _bang!_ reverberating throughout the hallway. The bullet hit the omnic in the chest; a quiet buzzing filled the air for a moment before the lights in the omnic’s eyes died, and it crumpled to the floor.

They continued without a word. When they turned to go down the hallway the omnic had come from, though, they stopped in their tracks. There were omnics blockading the hallway, clogging it up. The group wouldn’t be able to get through without a fight--a large one. Ahote counted around fifty omnics, though it felt like a thousand red eyes, all different shapes and makes, staring at him. Only some of the omnics had guns, which was a small comfort.

“At least this means we’re going the right way,” Lúcio said, trying to remain upbeat.

An omnic in the front line of the group said, using Kronos’ voice, “Give up, or I swear to you I will make the rest of your short, pathetic existence _miserable_.”

Ahote grit his teeth, anger surging through him at the voice. He forced himself to wait, glancing at Genji, ready for the signal to attack.

Genji nodded, then charged forward, shurikens sliding from his forearm and between his fingers. Ahote followed suit--as did everyone else, he was quick to notice--as he made a beeline for the omnic that had used Kronos’ voice, holding his shield up.

The omnic Ahote was heading for let out a spray of bullets, right into his shield. The energy depleted quickly, but Ahote was within arm’s reach of the omnic as soon as his shield went down. He reached out his robotic arm, his hand slapping against the omnic’s chest. A short spray of electricity fired out of his palm; the omnic’s eyes went dark before it fell to the ground.

After that first omnic fell, Ahote found himself in the middle of a hurricane of omnics. He forced himself to focus only on downing each omnic he saw. He’d long since lost sight of the others--but he knew they’d be fine.

By the time Ahote had taken three punches to the jaw (right where he was already bruised), many to the torso (mostly where he already had wounds), and skirted past some bullets, he found a break in the combat. The omnics around him were busy with the others, and he took the moment to breathe, looking around to regain himself and his bearings.

Suddenly, something fell on the floor several feet in front of Ahote. When he looked down, he saw Cyril, staring dazedly at an omnic in front of them. The omnic held a gun, pointed at Cyril.

Ahote rushed forward, his shield already materializing, but before he could run in front of Cyril, the omnic with the gun stopped. Its red eyes dimmed, then flickered to a light blue glow. The omnic seemed frozen in place; its eyes flashed between red and light blue for a few moments, before the light blue stayed.

“Error,” the omnic announced smoothly in a low, cold, feminine voice, before it fell to the ground, disabled. Ahote didn’t recognize the voice.

Ahote stared at the fallen omnic, then looked at Cyril, suspicion gnawing in the pit of his stomach.

Cyril sat silently before they jumped to their feet with a loud holler. “Give that sunuva bitch hell, Aera!” they shouted at the downed omnic before they leaped back into the fray.

Ahote blinked, watching after Cyril. He wanted to ask about what he’d just seen, theories already crowding his mind, but an omnic throwing a right hook into his already-aching jaw brought him back into the fight.

As he fought, Ahote could hear Lúcio’s pulsing music. It revitalized him, gave him a second wind to keep going. “Aren’t you tired?” an omnic asked with Corazon’s voice as he dodged its punch. Ahote didn’t reply as he electrocuted the omnic, sending it to the ground.

He downed as many omnics as he could, and didn’t stop until he could turn around to see the rest of the omnics were nearly dealt with by the others. By the time it was over, Ahote was panting and aching. He was sure some of his prior injuries had torn open again, though he decided not to worry about it until they were out of the warehouse.

Ahote found his eyes seeking out Lúcio. He was relieved when he didn’t see any blood on Lúcio; he only seemed fatigued, his chest rising and falling heavily. He caught Ahote’s gaze, then smiled and gave a thumbs up. Ahote’s cheeks burned at having been caught, but he returned the smile--albeit hesitantly.

“Let us continue,” Genji said. “Qui--”

Genji was interrupted as Elisa’s voice, quiet and scared, squeaked over the comms, “Hello?!”

“Packet,” Genji said over the comms, looking at the wall. “What is wrong?”

Ahote kept an eye on both ends of the hall as Elisa whispered back, “You all are getting company! Lots of omnics are running in.”

“Looks like we’d best hurry,” McCree said. “Thank ya kindly, Packet.”

“Mhmm!” Elisa replied.

Ahote could hear the fear in her voice, making it tremble a little. He wanted to reassure her, but he decided against it; if she wanted to act like she was fine, then Ahote would respect that; that’s what he would want.

Genji nodded. “Quickly, then,” he said to the small group in front of him, motioning down the hall.

They proceeded as fast as they dared--which was pretty quickly, in Ahote’s opinion. Every time they jogged down to another door, the stitches in his side pulled at him, sending constant, if sharp, pains through his abdomen. His back felt similarly, though he did his best to ignore it.

They encountered several more omnics, though nothing of the magnitude they’d downed earlier. Ahote was grateful for that, and he was even more grateful when they opened a door and saw a room with a terminal and several omnics.

He was significantly less grateful when a Bastion unit opened fire on them. Lúcio had been the one to open the door, so as soon as the Bastion opened fire, he stumbled back with a loud cry, holding his arm.

Ahote, standing behind Lúcio, felt fear grip his heart as he surged forward, wrapping his arm around Lúcio as his shield materialized. Several hundred bullets pinged off the hard light surface in the time it took Nicola to slam the door shut. Ahote could hear bullets still slamming into the closed door, so he gently guided Lúcio to the side, so he wasn’t in front of it.

With the immediate danger passed, Ahote pulled his arm back and all but spun Lúcio around to face him. “Are you alright?” he asked quickly, glancing down Lúcio’s body for any more wounds before he hovered his hands over Lúcio’s, hiding the wound in his arm. “Let me see.” He distantly registered chatter on the comms, but he blocked it out to focus on Lúcio.

“I’m fine, man,” Lúcio said with strained lightness in his voice. “It’s not even my good arm.”

“A gunshot wound isn’t _fine_ ,” Ahote argued. “Let me see it.”

“Who’s the doctor here?” Lúcio challenged. “I’ll be okay. We need to focus on a plan.”

“DJ’s right,” Cyril said. “We gotta get goin’; you organics are softies anyway.”

Ahote glared at Cyril before he looked back at Lúcio, frowning unsurely. Lúcio caught his gaze, and gave him a reassuring (if strained) grin. “One bullet isn’t gonna kill me, Aho,” he said.

 _Unless it’s poisoned,_ Ahote wanted to say, but he instead pressed his lips together and nodded. He doubted a Bastion unit would think to poison its bullets.

“What’s the plan, then?” Ahote asked, forcing himself to look at Genji as he straightened. There was a pause in the spray of bullets against the door, before it started up again.

“The other team is going to distract the reinforcements,” Genji said. “We will try to remove the thumb drive as quickly as possible.”

“And the Bastion?” Ahote asked, giving Lúcio another glance. “Ignore it and hope it goes away?”

“I will distract it,” Genji said. He pulled out the sword in the sheath on his back. “With luck, it will focus on me for as long as you all need in order to get the thumb drive.”

“Good fuckin’ plan,” Cyril said. “And if you _can’t_ distract it?”

“Have a little faith, Cyril!” Nicola said, a lighthearted lilt to his voice. “I trust Genji will be fine!”

“Sure,” Cyril said. “Why the fuck not? If I get shot, I’m suing Overwatch.”

“Can we get going?” Ahote asked, glancing at Lúcio again. He seemed fine, though he was still holding his arm; blood was beginning to trickle between his fingers. Quiet music emanated from the headphones around his neck, and he looked like he was bobbing his head a little with the beat.

Genji nodded, then turned to face the door. “Follow me in quickly,” he said. Nobody replied, already focused on the entrance. Genji rested his hand on the handle. Ahote wondered what he was waiting for, until the spray of bullets stopped. Genji wrenched open the door and dashed inside, gone in the blink of an eye. Cyril followed at a sprint, then Ahote.

The room, surprisingly, had furniture in it; it seemed like it’d been an office of sorts, with desks and filing cabinets and the like. Ahote didn’t have a chance to investigate the room further before he was forced to put his shield up, narrowly managing to block a spray of bullets shot from the machine gun of an omnic.

As the energy levels of his shield depleted, Ahote glanced around for Lúcio. He stopped, relieved, when he saw Cyril and Lúcio fighting two omnics side-by-side. Ahote turned his gaze back to his own omnic, pressing forward. The omnic stopped shooting when Ahote was within arm’s reach, so Ahote dropped his shield.

He lunged forward, trying to touch the omnic, but the omnic shoved its own fist forward, slamming into Ahote’s bruised jaw. Ahote spun around, stumbling to keep his footing, before something slammed into his back and he crashed onto the floor. He whirled around on his back to face the omnic, watching its arm shorten back to its regular length.

“Must suck to have to breathe,” the omnic said with Cyril’s mocking voice. Then, with Lúcio’s, “We’re all trained--now.”

“Good for you,” Ahote grunted. He forced himself to his feet, not wanting to give the omnic a chance to kick him while he was down. “We’re still stopping you,” he said as he dodged another long-range punch from the omnic.

“I’m not going anywhere,” the omnic reported with Ahote’s voice. Ahote lunged for the omnic, but it danced to the side as well, then hefted its gun.

Ahote lifted his shield just in time for the spray of bullets. “We will stop you!” he shouted over the loud din of bullets, if only to further try and distract the bot. If it would just lower its guard--

“You--must be corrected,” the omnic said with Kronos’ voice, which only fueled Ahote’s anger. “The end of humans,” it said with Cyril’s voice, then with Kronos’, “must be--found here.”

Ahote didn’t respond. His shield let out a chirp, indicating its low energy; as it fell, Ahote rolled behind a metal desk, nearly jumping out of his skin at the loud sound of bullets ricocheting just behind him. He needed a plan.

“Don’t--you have something to ask, _Cheveyo_?” the omnic mocked in Kronos’ voice.

Ahote grit his teeth, his mind whirling. He glanced at the Bastion; Genji was still thoroughly distracting it, reflecting bullets back at it with his sword. Ahote saw blood smeared on Genji, though, and several holes in the Bastion itself. Ahote couldn’t see Lúcio or Cyril from behind the desk, and he noticed Nicola looked worse for wear, with a dark stain spreading across his left side. He looked down at the silver band on his arm; his shield was still on low energy.

Suddenly, the desk Ahote was leaning against was torn away. Ahote’s back dropped harshly on the floor, eliciting a hiss of pain from him. When he focused on his surroundings again, he was staring down the barrel of the omnic’s gun.

“Found you, asshole,” the omnic said in a low, gravelly, male voice that Ahote didn’t recognize.

Ahote glanced down at his shield again. It was still on low energy--how badly had it been depleted this time? Ahote heard the whirring of the gun getting ready to fire, and he rolled to the side, gritting his teeth against the electric pain lancing through his body as he squished his gunshot wound against the floor.

The omnic chased him with a spray of bullets, but abruptly stopped as a loud voice shouted, “Hang on!”

Surprisingly, all the omnics stopped. Ahote froze, laying on his stomach, as he looked around the room. Nicola was on one knee, a bloody and grim grin on his face as he stared into the gun of the omnic he’d been facing. Genji was kneeling as well, holding himself up with his sword. Ahote’s heart gave a lurch when he saw Lúcio, held up in the air, his shirt fisted in the omnic’s hand and his feet kicking. Cyril seemed mostly fine, only a few new scratches, as they leisurely walked around their own enemy omnic.

“Can I ask,” Cyril said slowly, “why the _fuck_ you think I’d be siding with _these_ bozos?” He motioned to Ahote and the others.

All the omnics--except the Bastion--replied at once, with Cyril’s voice, “‘Look, I’m not lookin’ forward to the end of humans or whatever.’”

“Oh,” Cyril said. “Yeah, no, that was a lie. I’m just here for you, man! Wanted to get close to the big ol’, uh, Oroki.”

“Orochi,” the omnics chanted, with multiple voices.

“Yeah, that,” Cyril said with a wave of their hand. They were slowly walking towards the terminal. Ahote watched Cyril closely, disbelief blooming hot in his chest.

“What?” the omnics--Ahote realized it was Orochi at this point--asked with Ahote’s voice. “What’re y’doin’?” they asked with McCree’s voice.

“Joining you,” Cyril said. “Fuckin’ duh.” They waved a hand again. “Yeah, I’m over organics. They complain about bein’ alive too much, you know?”

“I know!” Orochi said with Corazon’s laughing voice.

Ahote slowly tried to stand, but as soon as he moved, the omnic in front of him shoved the gun at his head, pushing him harshly back down. Ahote grimaced, reaching up to rub the knot he was sure would form on his head.

“It’s just so _draining_ ,” Cyril continued, leaning on the terminal. “I’m over it. I don’t wanna deal with it anymore.”

Frustrated with how he couldn’t do anything else, Ahote shouted, “You traitor!” When Cyril looked with disinterest over at him, he continued, “I knew we shouldn’t have trusted you!”

“You talk a lotta shit for a guy with half your limbs gone,” Orochi said with Cyril’s voice.

“That’s what _I’ve_ been sayin’!” Cyril laughed. “I can tell we’re gonna get along great, Orami.”

“Orochi,” the omnics chanted.

“Whatever,” Cyril said, then reached a hand out to tear out the USB inserted in the terminal.

The enemy omnics’ eyes flickered off, and the bots collapsed to the ground--except for the Bastion unit, which whirled its turret on Cyril and let loose a stream of bullets. Cyril ducked under the bullets, but the Bastion just followed their movements, and soon, their ratty sweater was riddled with bullet holes.

“Cyril!” Nicola shouted, pushing himself to his feet with a wince. He rushed over as the Bastion started to reload, then picked up Cyril’s still body and slid behind a metal desk.

Ahote quickly scrambled to his feet, looking frantically around for Lúcio. He let out a sigh of relief once he saw Lúcio crouched behind a desk, holding a hand to his injured arm again.

The Bastion began shooting at the desk Nicola hid behind, and Ahote slid behind a desk as well. “What’s the plan?!” he shouted.

The Bastion suddenly let out a sad beep, then stopped firing. Ahote hesitantly pushed himself up to look over the desk at the Bastion.

Genji stood over the Bastion, his sword dripping with oil and the Bastion’s turret sliced off. “No plan necessary,” he panted. “We must go. Now.”

Ahote stood with a nod, looking back at Lúcio, who was also standing. He didn’t look as bad as he could’ve--blood was streaming down his arm, but otherwise, he seemed fine. Nicola cradled Cyril in his arms. Ahote frowned at all the holes in the omnic, and looked away.

At least they had Orochi, he thought as they limped out of the room.

That was all that mattered.


	18. Arrest

As they walked out of the maze of the warehouse, Ahote insisted on sticking by Lúcio’s side. He wasn’t _overly_ worried or clingy, he tried to tell himself; he just wanted to be there in case Lúcio needed help. (It didn’t sound very convincing to him, but he was lucky that nobody asked.)

They met up with McCree’s team shortly after leaving the terminal room. McCree’s team didn’t seem any worse for wear--Lehana had a scratch along her cheek, but that was the only blood on them Ahote saw.

“Th’fuck happened t’ _y’all_?” McCree asked as they walked down a hall, meeting in the middle.

“We met resistance,” Genji said warily, throwing a glance over his shoulder. “Did you not?”

McCree shrugged. “We saw a couple’a omnics,” he said. “Nothin’ big.” He jerked a thumb at Lehana. “Rookie bet she could use her board to kick up off’a one. Didn’t do too well.”

“I would’ve had it if someone didn’t make it pass out,” Lehana grumbled sourly.

“If you would like to argue, at least direct your comment to me,” Hanzo said, glaring over at Lehana.

“You’re a spoilsport,” Lehana accused, frowning at Hanzo.

“You were wasting time,” he said calmly, “as you are now. We are still in the middle of a mission. You would do well to remember that.”

“We got the god program!” Lehana argued, motioning at Genji’s group. “We’re good!”

“And while we bicker, Talon could be amassing outside the front door,” Hanzo said. “While we argue, your comrades are bleeding and injured. I hope your _fun_ is worth it,” he ended with a sneer.

“You don’t have to be so pretentious about it,” Lehana grumbled, looking away with a pout as she crossed her arms.

“Are we done?” Ahote asked impatiently, giving Lúcio another glance. “Can we get going now?”

“Lead th’way,” McCree offered.

Genji nodded before he started walking. McCree walked by his side, and they exchanged whispers as the others walked behind them. Ahote made sure to stay alert, alternating between keeping a wary eye on their surroundings and giving Lúcio worried glances.

“I’m not gonna pass out, Aho,” Lúcio said with a grin when he caught Ahote’s glancing.

“I never said you would,” Ahote replied, his cheeks warming a little at having been caught.

“Then stop looking so worried,” Lúcio said, a laugh on the edge of his voice. He nudged Ahote with his elbow. “Thanks, though--I’m flattered,” he added with a wink.

Ahote felt heat stain his cheeks further as he pointedly kept his gaze on the hallway in front of them. “I don’t look worried,” he grumbled.

“You _so_ do,” Lúcio said. “Don’t worry! It’s a cute look on you.”

Ahote’s face warmed further, practically on fire at that point. “...Thanks,” he quietly said, unable to form any other kind of response.

“Can the lovebirds in the front row _please_ stop before I hurl?” Lehana asked from behind them. Ahote shot her a glare over his shoulder, though he quickly looked forward again once he caught sight of the others’ amused grins.

Thankfully, they reached the front door of the warehouse then. Genji hesitated before he said into his comms, “Packet.”

There was silence on the other end. Ahote shifted uneasily from foot to foot; Elisa, although scatterbrained, was always focused enough to at least know when someone was speaking to her. The silence was unusual.

“Packet?” Genji tried again. When that didn’t work, he asked quietly, “Elisa?”

“Maybe the battery in her earpiece died?” Rorth suggested uneasily from the back of the group. “I noticed they don’t last very long. I could help fix that, if--” He stopped as Genji turned his head to stare at him. Rorth coughed into a hand. “Right. Sorry. Not the time.”

“We must be cautious as we exit, then,” Genji said. “There is no telling what is waiting for us.” He looked across the group, before his gaze stopped on Ahote. “Ahote. Your shield?”

Ahote gave Lúcio a glance before he nodded. “Sure,” he said, as he stepped forward, standing in front of the door. He activated his shield, glancing back at Genji over his shoulder. “Whenever you’re ready.”

“Ready,” Genji said with a nod.

Ahote opened the door slowly, peeking through his shield as it slowly creaked open. Harsh, white lights filled his vision as he opened the door, and he squinted his eyes against them as he stepped forward, standing in the doorway. A loud chopping, whirring sound filled the air--a helicopter?

“Overwatch,” a loud voice boomed. As Ahote squinted, he could see people standing around the door in a wide semicircle. Tension gripped his muscles, and he stood still, waiting for the group outside to reveal its intentions before he moved farther.

“You are under arrest for violating the Petras Act,” the voice continued. If anything, Ahote’s muscles gripped themselves tighter. “Surrender, or we _will_ be forced to action.”

“Move on, Ahote,” Genji murmured from behind Ahote. “They will not shoot us.”

Ahote complied, stepping forward until he was completely out of the doorway. He’d grown accustomed to the lights at that point, and realized they were spotlights from two helicopters, hovering in the air.

A woman in a smart purple business suit approached them, her black curls bouncing on her shoulders, nearly bleached white in the lights. When she was near enough, she stopped and said, “My name is Terada Fumiko. I am an emissary for the United Nations. You are all under arrest for engaging in activities that directly violate the Petras Act, which specifically prohibits the--”

“Ma’am, we ain’t done nothin’ wrong,” McCree said, stepping forward. When she turned her steely gaze to him, he tipped his hat. “We’re not Overwatch or anythin’,” he continued, and Ahote pressed his lips together in disapproval. “We’re jus’ a group’a people fightin’ for what’s right. Is that so bad?”

“We have received intelligence from multiple sources, as well as evidence from several watchpoints, that you are Overwatch. Do not fight this any further, or this will get ugly,” the woman replied, a professional frown on her face.

“Please, Terada-San,” Genji said, stepping forward. “We have injured that need attention. We need to attend to them as soon as we can.”

Terada pressed her lips together, sweeping her gaze across everyone. “We have medical facilities at the embassy,” she finally said, looking back at Genji. “They will be treated there.”

“This is ridiculous,” McCree grumbled. “What proof could y’possibly have that--?”

“You have several old Overwatch members within your ranks,” Terada curtly replied, glaring at McCree. “Jesse McCree.” She slid her gaze to Genji. “Shimada Genji.” She looked at Lehana. “Lehana Roland.” Her eyes landed on Ahote, and her brow furrowed. “Who are you?”

Ahote crossed his arms stiffly. “I doubt I’m the only one you don’t know here,” he said.

“ _You_ look familiar,” Terada replied. "They do not."

Before Ahote could respond, McCree cut in and said, “Yeah, he was a TV actor. Starred in a lil’ show called _mind yer business_. Rattlin’ off names ain’t any sorta proof.”

“Jesse, please,” Genji muttered. “No matter how much we fight, we are going with Terada-San.”

“But--” McCree started to protest, but when Genji stared at him, he sighed and pouted, looking away. “Fine.”

“Good choice,” Terada said, glancing behind her. “There are cars behind us ready to escort you to the embassy. I would suggest against trying anything stupid.” She motioned to a large man in sunglasses holding a basket. “Leave your weapons behind.”

Ahote surreptitiously flicked the switch on his robotic hand, disabling the weapon functionality. There was no reason he had to give up his entire arm. When he approached the basket, Genji was letting loose a steady stream of shurikens into it from his forearm. It was nearly full already.

“You are going to need a bigger basket,” Genji told the man holding the basket, as Ahote dropped his silver shield-cuff on top of the shurikens. He hoped they wouldn’t be parted for long.

Ahote walked forward as he glanced around, unsure of what he was looking for until his eyes landed on Lúcio, stowing his gun in the overflowing basket. Ahote slowed his pace, trying to not be obvious as he waited for Lúcio to catch up. He didn’t trust these people--they could’ve easily been Talon, somehow. Genji hadn’t even asked to see a badge.

Ahote was about to turn around and demand to see some form of identification from Terada, but he held himself back when Lúcio finally caught up with him.

“Aww, waiting for me?” Lúcio asked, a cheesy grin on his face. “You shouldn’t have.”

Ahote reached a hand up to rub his head. “I don’t trust them,” he grumbled as he and Lúcio walked down a path lined by guards with hard light shields--rectangular, built for blocking rather than for mobile combat, like Ahote’s.

“They’re fine,” Lúcio said. “What’re they gonna do? If they wanted to hurt us, they could’ve attacked right when the door opened.”

“I still don’t like it,” Ahote said. “Especially with you injured. You _all_ , I mean,” he amended, his cheeks warming. “Obviously.”

Lúcio chuckled. “Aho, I hate to break it to ya, but you’re about as subtle as a trainwreck.”

Ahote blinked, eyes riveted on Lúcio. “What do y--” He stopped abruptly as he slammed into a pole. He groaned, squeezing his eyes shut and rubbing where the pole smashed into his face.

“Are you okay?” Lúcio asked, his voice halting by the laughter Ahote could hear him holding back.

“Who the hell would make a walkway with a streetlamp in the middle of it?” Ahote grumbled, glaring up at the light in question as he moved around it.

Lúcio finally let out his laughter, but didn’t otherwise respond; they were close enough to the cars for the soldiers--Ahote didn’t know what else they could be--to hear them. Ahote warily eyed a soldier as Lúcio carefully climbed into the armored car.

Once Lúcio was situated, Ahote climbed in after him. The car had three rows of seats--the same as Overwatch’s cars. Lúcio sat in the back, a thin strip of seat separating him from a guard. Ahote resolutely squeezed himself between the two.

Genji and McCree slid into the row of seats in front of Ahote. The front two seats were taken up by soldiers. When Genji and McCree were buckled in, the car lurched forward and started moving.

It was a tense, silent drive. Ahote was glad he’d sat next to Lúcio; even with blood smeared over his arm, he had a calming presence. Ahote didn’t stare at the guard next to him for the _whole_ ride as a result--only most of it. (The rest of the ride was spent looking over Lúcio worriedly.)

The car came to an abrupt halt twenty minutes later, in front of a large white building. Ahote waited for the others to clamber out before he followed suit, his limbs sore and aching. He stood next to Lúcio, peering around as a second car drove up where theirs had been.

There were more soldiers--lots more than had been at the warehouse, Ahote assumed. There were reporters, too, shouting and jumping and flashing photos. Ahote instinctively ducked his head.

Lúcio seemed at home, Ahote noted as the others grouped up around them. He didn’t smile or wave at the cameras, but he didn’t shy away from them, either.  

“Where’s everyone else?” Genji whispered, drawing Ahote from his thoughts.

Ahote cast a cursory glance around--they were missing quite a few others. Elisa was gone--understandable, since she’d been the lookout, and had probably managed to escape before the UN people arrived. Corazon was gone as well, along with Nicola and Cyril.

Ahote couldn’t disguise a snort of disgust as he crossed his arms. He should’ve known--as soon as things turned tough, they’d ran. The anger was short-lived, though; he knew, deep down, he would’ve done the same thing. He _wanted_ to do the same thing, an ashamed part of him admitted.

Ahote was brought out of his thoughts when Lúcio started walking forward. Ahote followed, dazed for a moment, before he realized Terada was leading them towards the entrance of the building. Guards with hard light shields lined the walkway, as much to keep them in as the reporters out.

Ahote let out a short breath of relief when the heavy doors shut behind them, blocking out the noise. His ears were still echoing with shouted questions and demands as Terada led them down hallway after hallway, then a short staircase. As they proceeded through the embassy, past hushed employees and surrounded by soldiers, the decor changed; the entry hall had been grandiose and intricately designed, but at the bottom of the staircase, the walls were almost clinical in how barren they were. Ahote almost preferred the noise of the reporters. He was expecting to see Kronos at any moment.

Terada led them through a door that read _HOLDING CELLS_. McCree snorted and said, “Prime real estate we got here, huh?”

Genji shushed him as they walked up to a small desk lain in the wall, manned by a twig of a man.

“Sono ichidan no faiaru wo atsumatte,” Terada said, glancing with disdain at the group.

“Hai!” the man said with a nod before he reached down and pulled out a tablet. He tapped on it before he held it out to the first person in line--Genji. Genji removed his mask, then leaned down to the tablet; a small light came out and scanned over his eye. The tablet let out a friendly chirp. Genji replaced his mask and moved to the side.

McCree removed his glove and pressed his thumb to the tablet, as did Rorth, Hanzo, and Lehana.

Lúcio, in front of Ahote, let out an awkward laugh and held up his bloodstained hand. “Do you happen to have a napkin or something?” he asked.

The man stared at Lúcio, then down at Lúcio’s hand, before he sighed and pulled a box of tissues onto the desk as well.

“Thanks, man,” Lúcio said. He grabbed a tissue, wiping his thumb clean before he pressed it into the tablet. It gave an affirming chirp, and Lúcio moved to the side.

Ahote schooled his face as he stepped in front of the tablet. He didn’t have any records he knew of--he’d been with Talon since he was a legal adult. Dread rose up in him as he reached up and pressed his thumb to the tablet.

It gave an affirming beep and flashed green. Ahote caught sight of his name before the man pulled the tablet away, and a soldier ushered Ahote to follow the others, being led down the hall. He decided not to look a gift horse in the mouth as he moved on, though he was still curious.

Terada stopped in front of a door of bars--a jail cell. She held a tablet in her hand, and motioned with the other for the door to open.

“Lúcio Correia dos Santos,” she read from the tablet, motioning to the door. “Jesse McCree. Lehana Roland. Genji Shimada.” She looked up at the group expectantly. “Go on in.”

As Lúcio moved forward, Ahote resisted the urge to hold him back. “They’ll be getting medical treatment, right?” he asked, meeting Terada’s gaze without flinching. “Lúcio was shot in the arm, he--”

“Everyone will receive medical attention once we are ready to proceed with that,” Terada said, almost bored. She waved her hand again, and the door slid shut, dividing the two groups.

Ahote only let himself glance back at Lúcio once as Terada led them past, to the next cell over. She opened the door, then read impatiently from her list, “Hanzo Shimada, Ahote Talas, Rorth Vichea.”

Hanzo stepped in without hesitating, Rorth following suit. Ahote glanced back at the hallway they’d come down, his body screaming at him to run, damn the consequences, don’t let them cage you--

“We don’t have all day, Mr. Talas,” Terada said. Ahote looked back at her, and she motioned to the doorway. A soldier stepped forward, in Ahote’s line of vision, and he sighed before stepping through the opening. The door shut with a loud clang immediately behind him.

Rorth immediately crowded up to the door. “When do we get to defend ourselves?” he asked, leaning his head forward to peer at Terada down the hall. “Do I need a lawyer?”

“You will be asked to defend yourself soon,” Terada threw over her shoulder as she walked away. “Until then, please make yourself comfortable, _Overwatch_.”

Ahote frowned at her back before he turned to examine the cell. It was sparse; no windows, and four beds, each pair bunked on top of one another.

“So,” Rorth said, a grin on his face as he threw his arms over Ahote’s and Hanzo’s shoulders and pulled them closer, “which one of you tops?”

Ahote let out a disgusted scoff and moved away from Rorth’s arm at the same time Hanzo did, making Rorth stumble forward a step.

“C’mon!” Rorth said. “You can’t tell me I got locked in a cell with _both_ the antisocial ones.”

“Congratulations,” Ahote said, sending a scathing glance at Rorth over his shoulder as he climbed onto a top bunk. It was completely metal, and had a thin gray blanket balled up on it. Ahote couldn’t help but be reminded of his cot in Talon as he settled on the bunk.

“Perhaps now you will learn how much of a virtue silence can be,” Hanzo said, already seated on the other top bunk.

Rorth let out a sad sigh, moping his way to the bunk under Hanzo and slumping down on it. He grumbled something about how Lehana would’ve been a much more fun bed bunk partner.

“We’re in jail, Rorth,” Ahote snapped, hugging his knees to his chest, already incensed. “This isn’t about _fun_.”

“Whoa,” Rorth said, holding up his hands. “No need to get so cranky, Aho--I get it.”

“Don’t call me that,” Ahote said. “I’ve already told you--”

“Yeah, okay, I got it,” Rorth said. “Don’t call you that, whatever. Sure, this situation sucks, but you don’t have to take it out on _me_.”

“I don’t think making jokes about it will help the situation suck less,” Ahote said. “I’m not taking it out on you--I’m telling you to be a little more serious.”

“What crawled up _your_ ass and died?” Rorth asked, sitting up straight. “We don’t need to wallow in it. _I’m_ just trying to lighten the mood, which is more than you can say.”

“I’m starting to get the impression you don’t care about anything,” Ahote huffed.

“And I’m starting to get the impression you’re a giant dick when your boyfriend isn’t around,” Rorth shot back.

Ahote felt his cheeks burn as he glared fire at Rorth. “I don’t know what you’re--”

“Oh, yes you do,” Rorth argued. “You’re just too far in denial to see it.”

Ahote looked out the cage door, at a loss for words.

“What?” Rorth taunted. “Not gonna even _try_ to deny that?”

“It’s a stupid argument that has nothing to do with our situation,” Ahote spat. “It’s over.”

“Good,” Rorth grumbled, slumping back in his bed.

They sat in silence for a few moments until Hanzo mumbled, “Classy first impressions.”

Nobody spoke after that.

* * *

 

Almost two hours passed before a guard came to their door. Unless it was exactly two hours--Ahote wasn’t the best long-term counter, even under the best circumstances. With the worry about Lúcio swirling around his head, though, and with him jumping at even the smallest of sounds, it was far from the best circumstances.

The guard that came asked Hanzo, and only Hanzo, to follow him. After the door slammed shut behind him, Rorth asked, “Whaddya think they’re gonna do to him?”

“I’m sure we’re gonna find out,” Ahote replied curtly, slamming a door shut on the conversation. He knew he was being irrationally irritable, but he didn’t particularly care; he wanted to get out of that cell more than anything. Maybe if he was a bad roommate, they’d let him out--at least for a little while.

Hanzo was gone for twenty-seven minutes and forty-eight seconds (give or take). When he came back, he seemed angry; he said, anger pink in his usually-sandy cheeks, “Shippaida! Zenzen fuzoku shiteinai! Kono baaini watashiwa mukoda!”  The guard ignored him completely as he shoved Hanzo into the cell. “Toraerarenai!”

“Talas Ahote?” the guard read from a tablet, glancing around the room. When Ahote shifted from his perched state, the guard’s gaze zeroed in on him. “Tsuitekite kudasai,” he said as he jerked his head back a little.

Ahote clambered down from his roost, not sparing the impassive Rorth and the angry Hanzo a glance as he stepped out of the door. The guard closed the door behind Ahote, then led the way down the hall.

They passed Lúcio’s cell. Ahote looked in eagerly as they walked by, hoping to see if Lúcio--if _they_ , he scolded himself, were doing alright. The first person he spotted was McCree, sitting on a bottom bunk, twiddling his thumbs. He looked strange without a cigarillo pinched between his lips. On the bunk above his was Genji, his helmet gone and his hair sticking up at odd angles, his legs dangling in front of McCree’s face. In the top bunk across from Genji sat Lehana, lounging easily, probably asleep. Under Lehana was Lúcio, his skates resting on the floor next to him. Ahote swallowed his sigh of relief; Lúcio’s arm was cleaned and bandaged.

Ahote didn’t get to see anything else as they continued on. He forced his eyes forward, boring a hole into the guard’s back, he was sure. They didn’t walk too far before the guard opened an unmarked white door, ushering Ahote inside. Ahote slowly stepped in, the guard hot on his tail before he closed the door.

Ahote took a moment to inspect the room; it was mostly bare, save for metal walls, a single lightbulb hanging from the middle of the ceiling, and a metal table bolted to the ground, a chair on either side of it. Terada sat in the further of the two seats, a tablet lain in front of her.

“Mr. Talas,” she greeted with a nod. “Please, take a seat,” she said as she motioned to the empty seat across from her.

“I see it’s interrogation time,” Ahote said, stepping warily to the other chair and sitting down.

“That makes it sound so scary,” Terada replied with a politely cold smile. “I prefer to think of it as dividing the innocent from the guilty.”

Ahote snorted. “Sure,” he said. He crossed his arms. “Then let’s get this over with; go on.”

Terada tapped on her tablet for a moment before she leaned back in her seat, leveling her gaze on Ahote’s. “Let’s begin,” she said. “What are your ties with Overwatch?”

“I’ve been with them for a few months now,” Ahote said with a shrug of his shoulder. “Three or four? I haven’t kept track.”

“I see,” Terada murmured. “What have you been doing with them?”

“Training, mostly,” Ahote said. “This was my first mission.” He snorted. “You can see how well _that’s_ turned out.”

“What was the purpose of this mission, would you say?” Terada asked, ignoring Ahote’s sarcasm.

“Originally?” Ahote asked. “To investigate the ties between the Shimadas and the omnium. Once we realized what was going on, though, we had to deal with the god program.”

“Right,” Terada mumbled. “This god program that nobody has any _proof_ of.”

“What proof would you take?” Ahote challenged. “I’m sure there are tons of omnics ready to attest to Orochi existing--or would you prefer having the god program itself in your hands?”

Terada narrowed her eyes. “How did you hear that name?” she asked.

“Orochi?” Ahote asked. “It was the name of the god program. Don’t tell me you didn’t know that.”

Terada waved a hand. “A coincidence, then,” she said. “After you dealt with the god program, what was the plan?”

Ahote shrugged. “As far as I know, we didn’t have one,” he said. “We were improvising for most of this mission.”

“Seriously?” Terada asked, raising a brow. “Improvising? That does not seem like a danger to you?”

“No more dangerous than a god program running rampant with Shimada weapons,” Ahote said. “Are we done here?”

“There is one other matter,” Terada said, swiping around on her tablet. “What does the name Cheveyo mean to you?” she asked, trailing her steely eyes from the screen in front of her to Ahote’s face.

A chill of fear ran through Ahote’s chest. He clenched his teeth to hide the fear, his lip lifting in a snarl. “Not what you’re thinking,” he grit out. “It’s meant to scare kids. Nothing more.”

“Our records say you might have once been called Cheveyo, Mr. Talas,” she said coolly, lacing her fingers together.

“Not by choice,” Ahote spat. “If you’re bringing up my time with Talon, just bring it up. I don’t care about these games.”

“You’re not going to deny it?” she asked, lofting a brow.

“Why deny the truth?” Ahote asked.

“You do realize you will be punished for your time with Talon, as well,” she explained. “Murder, thievery, trespassing, destruction of public and private property--the list goes on.”

“If you’re gonna punish me for a life that I was forced to live,” Ahote said, consciously controlling his volume, “and that I no longer want to associate with, then you will.”

“What _I_ want,” Terada said calmly, “is to separate the truth from the lies.”

“Then there you go,” Ahote said. “I was in Talon. I did everything you’re accusing me of. Congratulations, you won. Can I go?”

“Now that you have confessed, you will have to undergo a trial for your crimes while with Talon as well,” Terada said. “You are an international criminal; you must be brought to justice.”

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Ahote said, pushing up from the desk and standing up.

The guard in the corner stepped forward, but Terada waved him off as she tapped on her tablet. “If you insist, Mr. Talas,” she said. “We will contact your commanding officer--I believe his name is Winston--and he will keep you up-to-date on the Overwatch trial. Your personal trial will not commence until the Overwatch one has been dealt with.” She nodded at the guard. “You may go.”

Ahote was lost in thought as the guard led him back to his cell. Maybe lying would’ve been better--would’ve bought him more time to...to what? Escape? Unlikely. It would’ve been worse, he was sure; he had nothing to hide. He wasn’t proud of his past, but he wouldn’t shy away from it, either. His punishment had been a long time coming. He was lucky to have gotten as much time as a free man as he had.

As the guard opened the door to his cell again, he distantly thought that he’d have to get used to the view. He stepped inside, only distantly hearing the guard speak behind him. Rorth got up and walked towards the door. Ahote could feel Rorth’s gaze on him but he ignored it, climbing up to his bunk instead, thoughts still whirling around his head.

Hanzo said something--Ahote could hear it, but he didn’t focus on the words. He hugged his knees to his chest, throwing the blanket over his legs as he stared numbly forward.

He deserved whatever punishment came, he told himself. It’d only been a matter of time. He’d been lucky to get as far as he had.

He wished he believed the words.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :^) they're all fine, i promise
> 
> we're nearing the end of the story!! i only have a few more chapters planned out from this point. thank you all for coming along with the ride!
> 
> special thanks again to my friend alice, at ajliddy.tumblr.com, who provided those Good japanese translations!!


	19. Trial

For the next four days, Ahote’s world was restricted to his cell--or, more specifically, his bunk. He didn’t leave it for any reason; not for food, and not to give Rorth the company he so desperately craved. He didn’t even leave it in dreams, as he didn’t sleep well; he was all but stuck in his position, his knees hugged to his chest, the blanket thrown over his legs. What sleep he _could_ find was restless and woke him shortly, fatigued and craving more.

The first two days, Hanzo seemed to be on the same page as Ahote; he didn’t eat, and he only barely acknowledged Rorth. On the third day, though, he did climb down to eat. Ahote couldn’t say the food looked any more appetizing as his stomach gnawed at him more and more.

Rorth, for his part, _did_ try to convince Ahote to eat. he insisted Ahote needed to keep up his strength, in case they got to make a daring escape. Ahote didn’t have the energy to laugh in his face. Rorth slid a food tray up next to Ahote each day, though Ahote only took the water. On the third day, Hanzo joined Rorth’s chastising. He even went so far as to climb up on Ahote’s bunk, sitting on it with his legs crossed.

“You must eat,” Hanzo said.

Ahote stayed silent, staring forward.

“What good will you be if asked to testify?” Hanzo asked. “You will fall unconscious as soon as you stand.”

Ahote didn’t respond.

“Are you deaf?” Hanzo asked, a stormy frown twisting his lips. “Why do you not rise to any challenge?”

“No,” Ahote mumbled into his arms, if only to give Hanzo _something_.

“No?” Hanzo asked, leaning forward a little to hear Ahote better.

“No, I’m not deaf,” Ahote clarified, voice muffled.

“Then tell me why you insist on not eating,” Hanzo said.

Ahote glanced at the tray of food on his other side. A biscuit, a plastic cup of water, and a sandwich with half the lettuce spilling out stared up at him.

Ahote knew why he wasn’t eating. What use would strength be in jail? What right did he have to food after all that he’d done, all that he’d had yet to be punished for? He didn’t tell Hanzo, though; instead, he continued to stare wordlessly forward.

Hanzo sighed and muttered, “Useless,” before he hopped down and off the bunk.

Ahote didn’t really speak, save for that conversation with Hanzo. The only other time he did talk was when Rorth hopped up on his bunk sometime during the fourth day, leaning onto Ahote.

“C’mooon, Ahote,” Rorth wheedled. “Play a game with us.”

“Stop touching me,” Ahote grumbled, sparing Rorth a weak glare.

“You’re not still mad, are you?” Rorth asked. “C’mon, that argument was _days_ ago! You know, we only have each other in here.”

Ahote scooted to the side, moving away from Rorth’s body without a word.

Rorth dropped his head on Ahote’s shoulder, looking up at him pleadingly. “Pleaaaase? Hanzo keeps cheating.”

Hanzo snorted from his own bunk. “I do not.”

Ahote replied by shoving his arm up, pushing Rorth’s head off. “Not interested,” Ahote mumbled into his arms.

“Man,” Rorth sighed, pouting as he slid off of Ahote’s bunk. “I thought that’d really work.”

Late on the fourth day, a guard came--without food trays. Ahote flicked his gaze warily to the door as the guard opened it. She had three other guards with her. “You all have a visitor,” she said crisply, standing tall with her hands behind her back.

Ahote would’ve been the first one to the door, but as soon as his feet hit the floor, a wave of dizziness washed over him. He shot out a hand to steady himself against the wall--was that moving, too?--before he was able to shake it off and continue to the door.

They were led down the hall in a terse silence, following two guards, with the other two flanking them. Ahote walked behind Hanzo and Rorth, his feet all but dragging. The fluorescent lights were too bright, too harsh. His eyes hurt, and there was a painful throbbing behind them. He felt very detached as they continued down the hall.

They passed Lúcio’s cell. Ahote looked eagerly in, desperate to see how Lúcio--how _the others_ were doing.

Lúcio was laying on his back on his bunk, his head dangling over the side. Their eyes met, and he gave Ahote a bright grin. Ahote returned the grin--hesitantly, not as brightly. Lúcio’s collapsed into a worried frown, and then a wall blocked their sight.

It was a thankfully short walk to the private visiting room. One guard in the front opened the door; the other ushered Hanzo, Rorth, and Ahote through it. Once they were inside, the guard shut the door behind them.

Ahote took a moment to realize who their visitor was. He blinked his blurry vision, focusing on the labcoat and the big, gray face with the delicate glasses perched precariously on it--Winston. Next to him at the metal table sat a woman Ahote didn’t recognize--pasty skin, black hair, blue eyes. There were four seats on the opposite side of the table from the pair.

“Hey, Doc!” Rorth said, a smile in his voice as he rushed forward to give Winston a brief hug. “I didn’t think I’d see you again so soon!”

Hanzo sat in a seat, tense and ready to run, as Winston huffed and said, “Did you think I’d forget about my team as soon as the UN caught them?”

Rorth laughed, sitting in the middle seat. “Of course not!” he said. “I never doubted you!”

Winston’s gaze shifted to Ahote. “Ahote?” Winston prodded.

“Huh?” Ahote asked, blinking--he’d only been mostly paying attention.

“Would you like to sit down?” Winston asked, motioning to the empty chair.

“Oh,” Ahote said, realizing he was the only one still standing. “Uh, sure,” he grumbled, taking the seat.

“Now then,” Winston said, and gestured to the woman next to him. “This is Terry Hogarth--our lawyer.”

Terry inclined her head towards them. “Nice to meet you all.”

“Lawyer?” Hanzo asked, suspicion laced in his voice. “How do we know we can trust her?”

“I’ve worked with Overwatch before,” Terry said. “When charges were brought against it during its collapse. There may be some different faces, but I can assure you that I’m still the best chance you’ve got.”

Hanzo hummed. Ahote thought he heard a disapproving tone in his voice before Winston said, “You all don’t need to worry; Terry is _very_ good at what she does. You’ll all be out in a jiffy.”

Hanzo said something, but Ahote didn’t hear what as he frowned, looking to the side. Out in a jiffy? No, he wouldn’t be. Maybe he could ask Winston for help with his own trial, though? Winston obviously knew lawyers. He could--

Ahote slammed a door on the thought. Whatever happened would be justice, and it would be necessary. He deserved it; there was no point in avoiding it.

“Ahote?” someone asked, breaking Ahote’s train of thought.

Ahote looked up, wide-eyed--caught. “Huh?” he asked.

“Are you...okay?” Winston asked, watching Ahote carefully. “You seem out of it.”

“I’m fine,” Ahote said, shaking off the fatigue so he could better focus. “Conti--”

“He’s most definitely _not_ fine,” Rorth said, frowning with disapproval at Ahote. “He hasn’t been eating--”

“Rorth--” Ahote tried to interrupt.

“--or sleeping or even _talking_ ,” Rorth continued, ignoring Ahote entirely as he turned his head to look at Winston.

Winston frowned, levelling his gaze on Ahote. “Again?” he asked. “Is that true?”

Ahote was silent for a moment before he averted his gaze. “I’ve been sleeping,” he mumbled.

“When?” Rorth demanded. “Every time I look, you’re sitting on your bunk like some kind of sad bat. It’s not healthy--”

“I’m fine,” Ahote snapped, glaring at Rorth. “I know what I’m doing.”

“ _Do_ you?” Rorth challenged.

“And anyway,” Ahote said, the heat leaving him all at once as he looked back at Winston, “this meeting is about the trial. Let’s get back on track.”

“That was all I had to tell you all,” Winston said. “You’re in good hands, and we’re working as hard as we can.” He frowned at Ahote. “If you’re worried, you shouldn’t be. You can trust us.”

Ahote felt a vague sense of guilt wiggling in his chest. He looked away from Winston’s understanding gaze, unable to bear the weight of it.

Everyone was silent for a moment before Winston sighed, pushing himself up to his feet. “Alright, then,” he said, padding over to the door. “Meeting adjourned. Good luck, you three--we’re working as fast as we can.”

Ahote felt even more detached than ever as they were escorted back to their cell. He forgot to glance in Lúcio’s cell as they passed.

* * *

 

For the following four days, Ahote’s world was restricted to his bunk. On the first day, he finally ate something, the cavernous feeling in his stomach too much to deal with. He nibbled halfway down a rock-hard biscuit before he decided he was done, and he set it down.

He slept about as well as he had during the previous four nights--that is, not at all. What sleep he could find was plagued by endless bars slamming in front of his face, doors closing and being locked, running down an infinite hallway with nowhere to escape to, drowning in a cube with no way out. He wished he could ask to listen to Lúcio’s lullaby.

The uncertainty was the worst of all. It filled his head with dark thoughts, possible futures and worst case scenarios. He didn’t want to think of them, but what else did he have to do? He wouldn’t entertain thoughts about what was happening to Lúcio, though--he didn’t hate himself _that_ much, and besides, the faculty weren’t cruel. He had no reasons to worry. Probably.

On the second day, Ahote took to unraveling his blanket. He found a loose thread and started working it through the others, something calming in the way he could tear apart something that was woven together so carefully without destroying the single thread. He was sure there was something symbolic in there somewhere, but really, he was just grateful for the distraction--even if his hands shook so much that he often lost his place.

On the third day, Rorth caught Ahote unraveling his blanket. He threw the spare one up at Ahote, and took the other--one corner already fully undone--away. Ahote just started unraveling the second one.

On the fourth day, right after the others had finished breakfast, a guard opened the door. She said, “Congratulations--Overwatch won.”

“What?” Rorth asked, incredulous, as he stood up.

“You’re free to go,” she elaborated. “You just have to pay some heavy fines.”

Rorth cheered and jumped in the air. Ahote and Hanzo stayed where they were, seated in their respective bunks.

“Please follow me, Rorth Vichea,” the guard read from a tablet, glancing around the room.

“Right here!” Rorth said, already in front of the guard. “Say, now that I’m a free man, wanna grab a drink?” he asked. Ahote could hear the smirk. His stomach rolled as he pointedly looked at the wall opposite the door.

“Come along,” the guard said, exasperation in her voice.

“Wait,” Rorth said. “Isn’t Ahote coming? I know Hanzo has another trial, but--”

Ahote stayed resolutely silent as the guard said, “He’s not on my list. He doesn’t get to leave.”

“That doesn’t make any sense,” Rorth said. “Ahote?”

Ahote pressed his lips together before he turned his head to look at Rorth. “Have fun on the outside, huh?” he asked, the words tasting like ash.

“What’s going on?” Rorth asked, stepping forward.

“I can handle it, Rorth,” Ahote said, voice level. “Thanks.”

Rorth frowned at Ahote before he threw up his hands and spun on his heel. “You’re so independent!” he said loudly, frustrated, as he marched out of the room. The guard closed the door behind him.

“I was not aware you had another trial, too,” Hanzo said, lifting an eyebrow.

Ahote snorted, burying himself further in his arms. “Talon will make you do some shit,” he said. “None of it’s good. Or legal.”

“Hmm,” Hanzo replied. He didn’t get out anything else before the door opened again.

McCree stumbled in, his hat no longer on his head. He whirled around to plead to the guard at the door, “Look, I’m tellin’ you, you’ve got no _proof_ to be lockin’ me up any--”

The guard threw McCree’s hat at his chest. McCree caught it as the guard slammed the door shut.

“C’mon, sugar!” McCree yelled, still strolling towards the door. When nobody replied, McCree sighed and jammed his hat on his head, turning around. He glanced at Ahote, then at Hanzo, and groaned, “Jesus Christ.”

Nobody said anything as McCree made his way to the bunk under Hanzo. He slumped down on it, leaning back against the wall. “So how’re _you_ two as cellmates?” he asked.

Ahote didn’t respond. “We enjoy silence,” Hanzo said.

McCree banged his head against the wall. “Fan-fuckin’-tastic,” he grumbled.

Ahote cleared his throat before he asked, voice raw from disuse, “Are you the only other one that’s staying?”

McCree nodded, then said, “Boy, you sound drier’n a desert. You good?”

Ahote didn’t reply. It was a small relief to know that at least Lúcio--the others would be free.

“Right,” McCree grumbled. “Okay. Quiet. I can do quiet.”

“Then do it, gaijin,” Hanzo said.

“You know I have a name, right?” McCree asked. “Jus’ wonderin’.”

Hanzo snorted. “Of course I do,” he said. “What kind of fool do you think I am?”

“Th’kind that don’t use people’s names,” McCree said.

“That is not foolish,” Hanzo replied. “That is intentional.”

McCree huffed a sigh, crossing his arms. “Why do I bother?” he grumbled to himself.

Nobody responded.

* * *

 

McCree was quieter than Rorth--except for when he was asleep. His snoring sounded like the distant rolling of faraway thunder. If Ahote closed his eyes while McCree was asleep, he could almost believe he was outside. Almost.

Ahote only had to endure one night before a guard came and escorted him--him _alone_ \--somewhere. He hadn’t understood the guard; she’d spoken in Japanese, and he hadn’t asked Hanzo for a translation.

He was glad to be outside the cell, he decided as they walked down the hall, even if the sterile white walls burned against his vision, and even if his heart pounded in his temples, and even if his stomach seemed to growl with every step. The guard led him to a door labelled _VISITING AREA_ , and Ahote furrowed his brow. Who would be visiting him?

As soon as the guard opened the door for him, Ahote’s eyes landed on his visitor--Lúcio. Ahote’s soul felt like it sagged with relief; Lúcio looked good. He was seated at a small table at the side of the room, which was populated with several other empty tables and chairs. He was in clean clothes, his wound hidden under a white T-shirt sleeve as he tapped quietly on the surface of the table, looking around.

When Ahote approached, Lúcio’s gaze zipped over to him. A big, beaming grin overtook Lúcio’s face as he stood up to meet Ahote.

“Aho!” he greeted. “We get one hug now and one when you leave--if you want.” He held out his arms. “Caaan I cash in?”

Ahote hesitated, believing it to be a dream for a moment, before he surged forward, wrapping Lúcio tightly in his arms and burying his head in Lúcio’s shoulder. He was warm, and Ahote felt like he was coming home after a long day at work. He smelled vaguely, vaguely of mint (if Ahote had to guess--he was awful with scents). Ahote didn’t want to let go, but after a few seconds, a guard was yelling--he assumed at them. He reluctantly moved back, dropping his arms.

“Okay,” Lúcio said, a dopey grin on his face for a moment before he shook his head, growing serious. “Sit down. We have to talk.”

“That doesn’t sound good,” Ahote grumbled, his voice coming out as a raw whisper as they both sat, opposite the table of one another.

Lúcio frowned. “Whoa. When’s the last time you talked, man?”

Ahote furrowed his brow in thought, staring down at his hands on the table before he said, “Yesterday…?”

“And the last time you ate?” Lúcio asked, reserved, almost as if he was scared of the answer.

“Let’s, uh, not talk about that,” Ahote said, looking anywhere but at Lúcio. “How are--”

“Seriously?” Lúcio interrupted. “What’s wrong, Aho?”

Ahote pressed his lips together, not answering, though he did look at Lúcio.

Lúcio sighed, slumping back in his seat. “Does it have anything to do with why you’re still in here?” he asked.

Ahote carefully nodded.

“Why are they still keeping you locked up?” Lúcio asked. “All they would say was that they had unresolved issues with you.”

“It’s...what I did while in Talon,” Ahote said, slowly. “They’re gonna punish me for it--bring me to justice.”

Lúcio furrowed his brow. “What, seriously?” he asked, leaning forward. “That’s _it_? That wasn’t even you, man!”

Ahote frowned. “Yes, it was,” he said.

“Well, I guess it was your body,” Lúcio amended, “but still--you didn’t have any choice in the matter! They can’t be keeping you detained just for _that_.”

“They are,” Ahote said slowly. “Choice or not--and there _was_ choice--I still did it, Lúcio. I still need to...atone.”

Lúcio snorted. “What choice was there?” he challenged. “Do what they said, or die? What kind of choice is that?”

“It was a choice,” Ahote said, frowning, “and that’s what they’ll argue, too.”

“They would’ve preferred you to die?” Lúcio asked. “A _kid_?”

“They wouldn’t be the first,” Ahote muttered, leaning back in his seat as he looked away.

“This is _bullshit_ , Aho,” Lúcio whispered harshly. “And you know it.”

“Do I?” Ahote asked. “It seems pretty reasonable to me.”

“But you would’ve died if you hadn’t--”

“And instead other people died,” Ahote said, somehow calm. “Other people were killed for my sake. By my hand, even--who’s to say I deserved to live any more than they did? There was an option, and it was selfish, and now I’m paying the price for it.”

Lúcio shook his head. “Wanting to live isn’t _selfish_ , Aho.”

“It is when it causes other people to die,” Ahote said.

Lúcio stared at him, resolute, for a moment. “I’m getting you out of here.”

Ahote’s first instinct was skepticism. He rethought the scathing retort, and carefully said, “Lúcio, I appreciate the thought, but--”

“I’m _not_ leavin’ you, Aho,” Lúcio interrupted, dropping his hand on top of Ahote’s.

A guard shouted out over the blood rushing into Ahote’s cheeks, and Ahote pulled his hand back into his lap.

Lúcio sighed, pulling his hand back as well. “You’re a good guy,” he murmured. “You don’t deserve to be locked up.”

“I’m not,” Ahote muttered, unable to take the compliment--because it wasn’t true, and because of where he was.

Lúcio frowned. “And why not?” he asked. “You joined Overwatch, didn’t you? Bad people don’t do that.”

“I joined because I was afraid,” Ahote said. He wanted to be angry, but he could only muster shame into his voice as he stared at his hands on the table. “I was running from Talon. I didn’t want them to catch me.” He let out a huff of air that could’ve been bitter laughter. “I got caught anyway.” He looked up at Lúcio. “Everything I’ve done has been for myself, Lúcio--how can you say I don’t deserve this when everything I am has been leading to it?”

Lúcio stared at Ahote for a moment, solemn fire in his eyes, before he leaned forward. “Listen,” he said, quietly. “When you first joined, Winston told me to keep an eye on you, to make sure you weren’t a sleeper agent. At first, I wasn’t sure--but a sleeper agent wouldn’t have cooked eggs for me. A bad guy wouldn’t have been worried for someone else’s safety because they got a sketchy roommate. A bad guy wouldn’t have put himself in danger to buy someone else a few extra seconds, or run into a burning neighborhood to save people. A bad guy wouldn’t have refused to leave someone’s side when they got shot. You might be a lot of things, Aho, but you’re not bad, and you don’t deserve _this_.” Lúcio spat out the last word as if it was a nasty piece of meat.

Ahote stared at Lúcio, at a loss. _It’s because it was for you,_ he wanted to say; _if it had been anyone else, I wouldn’t have._ But the words still hit him--made a little sprig of hope for himself bloom in the core of his heart.

“...Thank you,” he finally whispered back, unable to look away from Lúcio.

Lúcio leaned back again, a serious frown still on his face as he stared at Ahote, before he nodded. “Now that you get it,” he said, “there’s...other stuff.”

Ahote blinked, wiping away the awestruck expression he was sure he’d been wearing. “What?” he asked, leaning forward. “Are you alright? You _all_ , I mean--”

“We’re fine,” Lúcio said, giving Ahote a brief cheeky grin before it dropped. “Mostly. It’s Elisa.”

“What about her?” Ahote asked.

“She never went back to the safehouse,” Lúcio slowly said. “We...have no idea where she could’ve gone. She fell off the grid.”

Ahote frowned, filing through his memories--it already seemed so long ago. “She was the lookout for the warehouse,” he said. “She….” He furrowed his brow, unable to remember much else.

“She warned us about reinforcements,” Lúcio said. “Then she was completely silent. We don’t know when she was taken, exactly, between that warning and when we left the warehouse.”

“You think she was kidnapped?” Ahote asked.

“What else would’ve happened?” Lúcio replied. “She isn’t the kind to just _leave_ , right?”

Ahote shook his head, his frown souring. “We have to look for her,” he said too quickly. Then he remembered, and he amended quietly, “ _You_ have to look for her.”

“You’ll be able to join us,” Lúcio said. “I _promise_.”

Ahote gave Lúcio a small smile, though he knew it didn’t reach his eyes.

“That’s not all,” Lúcio said, “but...are you okay? This has been a lot to unload, I can come back tomorrow if you need time.”

Ahote shook his head. “No,” he said, then rethought. “I mean--come if you want,” he said, his face warming again, “but I’m fine. What else is wrong?”

“Iiiit’s Orochi,” Lúcio slowly said.

“Did Talon take it again?” Ahote asked quickly.

“No, no!” Lúcio said, waving his hands. He paused, then amended, “Well, maybe. That’s the thing.” He lowered his hands. “We have no idea where it is.”

“We...lost a god program,” Ahote surmised.

Lúcio nodded. “Basically,” he said. “Cyril had it last, and Nico had Cyril last, and now Nico is gone, so….”

“Can you contact the organization Nicola is in?” Ahote suggested. “The--the omnic mafia. Maybe he went back?”

Lúcio shrugged. “They’re underground,” he said. “Like, _real_ underground. We have no way of getting to them.”

“Great,” Ahote muttered. “I’m suddenly not very envious of you.”

Lúcio gave a strained grin. “If I could be in there with you, I would be.”

“Just commit a few felonies,” Ahote said lightly. “Easy.”

Lúcio let out a small huff of laughter, though he quickly frowned at Ahote again. “That’s all I had,” he said. “I should go now--Genji is waiting outside.” At Ahote’s furrowed brow, Lúcio explained, “Only one visitor at a time.”

“I’m glad it’s you,” Ahote said before he could stop himself. He quickly stood up as he realized what he’d said. “Uh, I mean--”

Lúcio laughed, standing up as well. “I know _exactly_ what you mean,” he said, giving Ahote a wink. “But we can talk about that once you’re out.” He held his arms open again. “Hug?”

Ahote nodded, all but rushing forward to wrap his arms around Lúcio again. He tried to etch the feeling in his memory--Lúcio’s hands on his back, the breathing chest straining against his arms, the hairs on the back of Lúcio’s neck not long enough to pull back yet tickling against Ahote’s cheek--before the guard shouted, making them pull apart again.

“Make sure you eat,” Lúcio scolded, even as Ahote walked away. “And sleep!”

“I will,” Ahote reassured him with a nod moments before they closed the door behind him, blocking his view of Lúcio.

As he was escorted back to his cell, Ahote couldn’t help but have hope for his future. He tried not to quash it--at least for the time being.


	20. Freedom

The day after Lúcio’s visit, Terada had Ahote escorted into a room with her again. Once there, rather than interrogating him further, she informed him that he would need a lawyer for his own trial.

Part of Ahote wanted to ask for Terry Hogarth, but he decided against it; she had helped Overwatch, after all, and probably wouldn’t have helped him, too. Besides, he wasn’t entirely convinced he _should_ win. He informed Terada that he didn’t know any lawyers, and she told him that she would contact him next when they found one for him.

Beyond that, Ahote didn’t get to leave his cell. Lúcio didn’t visit again. Ahote was distantly disappointed, but he knew he shouldn’t have been surprised. With the searches for both Elisa and Orochi, everyone was probably busy.

Ahote kept to his promise, though; he did start to eat more, though he couldn’t force himself to sleep more. The nightmares weren’t as bad as they had been, though, so he did feel more refreshed--at least a little.

Ahote was woken up in the middle of the second night when someone slammed the cell door open. He all but jumped awake, already sitting up, and looked at the door. He could only see a silhouette lined dimly in the darkness, but something about it was familiar--lanky limbs and slightly-disheveled hair, with several objects in its hands--one long and curved, and one small and familiar--a gun.

“Hello, _uomini bellissimi_!” a familiar voice whispered into the room. “Who is ready to leave?”

“Nico, you _beautiful_ sonuva bitch!” McCree all but laughed as he stood up. “I could kiss ya!”

“I would not say no,” Nicola said, “but perhaps we should wait until we are not escaping from a high-security jail, yes?”

“Good idea,” McCree said, a smile in his voice as he clapped Nicola on the shoulder. “C’mon, slowpokes--we gotta get outta here!” he said, directed towards Ahote and Hanzo.

“You left us when we were arrested,” Hanzo said slowly, even as the shadow of him climbed down from his bunk. Ahote didn’t have to try hard to imagine the suspecting glint in his eyes.

“Corazon and I could not afford to be captured,” Nicola said, apology thick in his voice. “The OPPF needs us, and Cyril needed medical attention. I trust you understand.”

“I do,” Hanzo replied, voice a low growl. Ahote wasn’t sure if he was angry, or just trying to be quiet.

“I have your weapons,” Nicola said, handing McCree his pistol and Hanzo his bow. Ahote could see his silhouette look around, holding a cuff. “Is it only you two?” Nicola asked. “Where is Ahote? Lúcio said he is still here as well.”

Ahote didn’t reply, staring intently at the doorway, three silhouettes in it. He heard the others speak, gesturing vaguely towards him, but he was distracted by his pounding heart, blood coursing through him. His leg throbbed with the desire to run, to escape, but his brain crashed down on the craving, icy-cold with logic and shame. Ahote knew he had to stay, knew he deserved to pay for what he’d done--regardless of what Lúcio had said.

Ahote focused on the situation again when two silhouettes ran off, down the hall--Nicola and McCree. Hanzo approached Ahote’s bed. Though it was nearly pitch-black, Ahote could feel Hanzo’s eyes nailed to him.

“You’re not leaving with them?” Ahote asked. “Now could be your only chance.”

“I will,” Hanzo said, stopping in front of Ahote, looking up at him. Ahote saw a glint of silver in Hanzo’s hands--Ahote’s shield. “You do not plan on coming.”

It wasn’t a question. Ahote glanced at the lit doorway, the cage wide open, ready for him to escape, almost begging him to run. “No,” he said, wrenching his gaze back to the dark form of Hanzo. “I don’t.”

Hanzo was silent for a moment, and Ahote was almost sure he was going to turn around and walk out of the cell. But he stepped forward, effortlessly pulling himself up to sit on the bunk next to Ahote, his legs dangling off the side.

“That is foolish,” Hanzo said.

Ahote snorted. “Breaking out of a high-security prison in the middle of a UN embassy is foolish,” he said, jealousy coloring his words with a thin layer of anger. He wanted to run, too--but he wouldn’t, couldn’t, allow himself to.

“I am no fool,” Hanzo said, firm--but not angry. “I know why you are still here. They keep you because of what you did while you were a pawn of Talon. You believe you deserve punishment. You seek redemption--honor.”

Ahote stayed silent, though his gaze slid to Hanzo, at his right.

“You will not find it here,” Hanzo said.

“Won’t I?” Ahote challenged. “It’s punishment for what I’ve done. What could be more redeeming?”

“Punishment will not alleviate the guilt,” Hanzo said. It might have been fatigue, or the fact that he’d been asleep minutes prior, but his voice sounded a little raw--a little more impassioned than usual. “You will be locked in a cage, and you will be miserable. You will let yourself wither away.”

“Isn’t that what I deserve?” Ahote asked. He wanted Hanzo to leave, to stop reminding him of what he was passing up--it was getting harder and harder to stay rooted to the bunk.

“It is not what you seek,” Hanzo said. “You want to atone, but being locked in a cell will not heal those you have hurt. You seek honor, but withering away will not mend the families you have broken. You want to redeem yourself, but being a prisoner will not bring back those you have killed.” Ahote had looked away at this point, but he felt Hanzo lean forward, piercing eyes aimed at Ahote’s face. “Only out in the world, helping others as a free man, will you find redemption.”

Ahote frowned, leaning his forehead against his arms, resting on his knees. His heart knew Hanzo was right. He wasn’t sure if it made so much sense because he wanted to flee so desperately, or because it was really the truth.

He was startled when Hanzo dropped down from the bunk. “I have said all that I can,” Hanzo said, reaching up to place something on the bunk, glinting silver. “It is up to you to decide,” he said as he made his way to the door. At the doorway, he stopped, turning his head so Ahote could see his profile against the light. “I would suggest you think about how your refusal to leave would impact those outside these bars, as well.”

Ahote didn’t get a chance to respond before Hanzo stepped through the door, and quickly disappeared down the hall. Ahote pressed his lips together, his face hidden in his arms as he tried to ignore the obvious temptation.

No matter how hard Ahote tried, though, Hanzo’s words rattled around in his head. _Those outside these bars_. He wanted to think nobody would care, that everybody would assume it was for the best, too--but his heart knew that wasn’t true, not anymore. Lúcio’s voice mingled in his head-- _You’re a good guy,_ it murmured. _You don’t deserve to be locked up._ Lúcio had been insistent on getting Ahote out--would Ahote be able to forgive himself if Lúcio tried to free him after this, and got caught himself? _You’re a good guy._ No, Lúcio didn’t deserve that, particularly for Ahote’s sake. _You’re a good guy._ And besides that, Ahote knew that in jail, he’d only be able to wallow in his guilt, never work through it. He wanted to atone, but he didn’t want to suffer--not really. _You’re a good guy._

In a rush of impulse, Ahote hopped from the bunk. He set a hand against the metal wall, steadying himself as blood rushed through him, dizzying him for just a moment. He reached up to grab his cuff, fitting it on his arm as he walked towards the door, distinctly aware of each step as something in him told him to get back in the bunk, the punishment won’t be worth the risk, being locked up for the rest of his life wouldn’t be _that_ bad--

“--he will come,” Hanzo’s voice drifted quietly from the hallway. “I am not incompetent, gaijin.”

“I’m startin’ t’think yer usin’ that endearingly,” McCree’s voice wheedled as Ahote stepped through the door.

“That proves how foolish you really are,” Hanzo said, from Ahote’s right. When Ahote looked, he saw all three--McCree, Hanzo, and Nicola--in a circle at the end of the hall. Hanzo was frowning at McCree, his arms crossed.

Nicola saw Ahote first. “Ah!” he said, waving Ahote over. “He is coming!”

“You waited?” Ahote asked, his brow furrowed, once he was close enough.

“Y’think it’d really be that easy t’get rid of us?” McCree asked. He already had a cigarillo pinched between his lips. “C’mon, now.”

“You ruined my favorite gi,” Hanzo said simply, watching Ahote out of the corner of his eye. “Those in my debt do not remain so for very long.”

Ahote felt a flush cover his cheeks at the embarrassing memory of Hanzo carrying him through an omnium, so he looked at Nicola. “Thanks,” he murmured. He then asked quickly, “Should we get going?”

“Of course,” Nicola said with a nod, an easy grin on his face. “This way--and be quiet, yes? We do not wish to be caught.”

“Easy fer _you_ t’say,” McCree grumbled as they started to prowl down the hall, his spurs jingling quietly with each step.

“Perhaps if you did not insist on dressing so ridiculously,” Hanzo replied scathingly, “you would not have so much trouble.”

“Maybe if y’didnt have such a stick in yer ass,” McCree shot back in an angry whisper, “y’wouldn’t feel th’need to insult me all th’damn time.”

“I only do _that_ because you make it so easy,” Hanzo said.

“We’ve all got our quirks, Han,” McCree said. “Some of us like boots, ‘n’ some of us like havin’ half our chests hangin’ out.”

Ahote couldn’t contain a huff of a laugh. Walking through the halls, stretching his legs--he felt free, he felt lighter, he felt like he could take on the world. His buoyant heart only soared higher at Hanzo’s mockingly-distressed scoff. “And now you are on the cowboy’s side. I should have let you rot.”

“Sorry,” Ahote said, fighting down a grin. “There’ll be plenty of time for payback once we’re out.”

“I will ensure it,” Hanzo agreed.

“I appreciate we are all happy to be free,” Nicola said, voice strained as he peered around a corner, “but we must be quiet.”

They stopped talking after that. There were several close calls when they had to huddle in shadows and let guards walk past; the guards seemed to be frantic, nearly running everywhere and exchanging harsh whispers in Japanese. Ahote resisted the urge to ask about it; it was helping them escape.

Ahote thought he was dreaming when his eyes landed on a window full of a starless night sky. He almost lost all the air in his lungs with relief and a desire to step outside, to feel the breeze against his face. The air in the prison had been stagnant and stale and artificial.

It wasn’t the front door they headed towards--that would’ve been foolish. Nicola led them through the first floor of the compound, towards the back. Ahote thought they were going out the back door before Nicola stepped in front of an elevator, pressing the up arrow button.

“We’re using the elevator?” Ahote asked, casting furtive glances over his shoulder constantly. “Where are we going? Is this a good idea?”

“We are being airlifted out,” Nicola said. “The perimeter has too many patrols on the ground.” He gave a lopsided smile to answer Ahote’s second question. “Trust me, Ahote!” he said. “You are in good hands.”

Ahote frowned at Nicola, but decided to trust him for the time being. He had come back to save them, after all, even after running away. That had to count for something.

The elevator announced its presence with a happy _bing!_ before the doors opened, revealing a rather large interior with plush red carpeting. Ahote was glad for the space as they filed in. Nicola pressed the button for the top floor--60--before the doors started to slide shut, painfully slowly.

“Matte!” someone shouted from outside the elevator. Nicola slammed his thumb on the door-close button repeatedly, but a hand suddenly sliced between the elevator doors right before they shut. Nicola guiltily shuffled away from the panel of buttons.

The elevator doors flew open, revealing a short, balding man in a black business suit. His head shined under the fluorescent lights as he stepped in, letting out a sigh. “Yabai…” he muttered. His coal-black eyes, tinted red from squinting at papers or a phone screen all day, were squeezed behind oval glasses. Ahote didn’t get a much better look as the man turned around, facing the doors. He pressed the _39_ button with his thumb.

Ahote tensed, but McCree’s hand on his forearm kept him from doing anything. Ahote glanced up at McCree, and caught the tiniest shaking of his head. Ahote frowned, staring into the back of the man’s receding hairline. He could’ve been a spy--could’ve been notifying the guards of their location at that very moment.

“Neko ni koban,” the man muttered with a huff, glancing around at them.

“Baka gaijindesuyo,” Hanzo quickly said, scorn obvious in his voice. “Nihonhe kitanoni, nihongowo zenzen hanashimasen.”

“Soudane,” the man replied with a soft chuckle.

They rode the elevator in silence after that, quiet music playing. It didn’t help to ease Ahote’s nerves. If the man felt the tension in the air, he didn’t remark on it; he tapped quietly at his phone, letting out a puff of air every few moments that Ahote assumed was laughter.

When the elevator announced floor 39 with a quiet ding, the man gave a nod to Hanzo. “Sayonara,” he said with a cordial grin. Hanzo returned the nod as the man stepped out and down the hall.

Once the doors shut again, McCree grumbled, “That was fuckin’ weird.”

“It is still a functional building,” Nicola said. “We are lucky it was not a guard.”

“It might’ve been,” Ahote grumbled.

“It has passed,” Hanzo said. “We are almost out. There is no use dwelling on it.”

They continued in silence until they reached floor 60. The doors opened with a soft ding. Nicola peeked his head out and looked down both ways before he started down the hall, Ahote and the others filing after him.

Nicola led them down several halls, through a door, and up a small stairwell. “Are they already on their way?” McCree asked, directly behind Nicola on the cramped staircase.

“They are,” Nicola confirmed. He stopped for a moment to open a door, then led the troupe outside.

The first breath of fresh air in Ahote’s lungs felt like he was lying on a grassy meadow, all his fears and worries turning into clouds and floating far, far away. The second breath made him want to tear up with relief, and joy, and he didn’t know what else. He hadn’t realized how much he hated being locked up--or maybe he had, but he’d decided to ignore it. It didn’t matter anymore. He redid his half-undone ponytail, suddenly feeling very grimy in the hot summer air. He couldn’t wait to get in a shower.

“Caraaa?” Nicola cooed, holding a finger to his ear as he looked up at the sky. “We are in position.” Wind ruffled Nicola’s hair, and Ahote found himself looking around as well. “How far are you?” After a beat of silence, Nicola chirped, “Thank you! I will see you soon,” and dropped his hand.

“How far are they?” Hanzo asked.

“Just a few minutes,” Nicola reassured, pointing on the horizon. “You might be able to see them now, if your eyes are sharp enough.”

Ahote squinted, staring into the distance, but it was difficult to make out anything against the inky black night sky, save for the bright yellow windows and lights emanating from buildings.

Eventually, though, Ahote could hear it--a quiet buzz as the aircraft grew closer. Ahote could only see it when its silhouette started to block the squares of light in the distance, the buzz having grown to a moderate roar.

Despite the noise, it was easy for Ahote to hear a voice shout behind them, “I should have guessed!”

Ahote whipped his head around to look over his shoulder, strands of his hair flying in the now-strong winds. Terada stood in the doorway to the stairwell, her own hair whipping around her. Two guards stood at her back, but Ahote could see more in the stairwell.

“Somebody’s dedicated,” McCree grumbled, barely loud enough to hear over the whirring of the close airship.

“Surrender!” Terada shouted. She made a motion, and the two guards next to her raised their guns, aimed straight at the group. “We will shoot if needed!”

Ahote activated his shield, bracing his feet behind it as he stared hard at Terada. He felt the others shuffle around behind him--probably to get behind the shield.

Terada stepped forward, and more guards streamed onto the roof. Ahote pressed his lips together as she shouted over the almost-deafening airship, “You are all still wanted men! You will not be allowed to leave!”

“It’s gonna be a _real_ kick in th’gut when we do, then!” McCree shouted back.

“You will be caught again!” Terada yelled. “It will be worse for you! Surrender now, or--”

“Never!” Ahote shouted, fire broiling in his stomach--fear of losing his freedom again, anger at being asked to surrender, protectiveness of those behind him. “You’re wasting your breath!”

Even from there, Ahote could see Terada’s jaw clench. She murmured something, and the guards shifted on their feet, tightening their grips on their pistols.

Ahote glanced behind him, at the airship. He was glad he did, as he was able to brace his feet as the airship lowered to the roof. When it landed, the cement under their feet shook like an earthquake. A bright spotlight focused on the guards and Terada from the airship.

Winston’s voice sounded from a loud speaker on the airship, “Time to go, everyone! No time to waste! Please get on the ship as soon as possible.” There was a murmur in the background, and Winston sighed, “No, I did _not_ mean a spoon as possible.”

Ahote heard running feet behind him, and assumed it was the others sprinting to the airship. Ahote backed away as quickly as he could, still staring at the guards, his shield still up.

The guards didn’t wait to start firing. Bullets sprayed into Ahote’s shield, and skidded past the roof to either side of him. He kept a wary eye on the energy bar on his cuff, forcing himself to keep going, to not glance back.

Ahote stumbled on a ramp behind him as his shield’s last bit of energy depleted. As the hard light shattered, he quickly whirled around, using a hand to help propel himself up the ramp. Bullets pounded against the metal ramp, making a symphony of _ting!_ s. One scraped past Ahote’s thigh before he was in the airship proper, the ramp lifting and closing behind him.

Ahote’s heart pounded with energy and adrenaline as he stood, panting and catching his breath. Once he had it, however, it was instantly knocked out of him as someone ran into him, wrapping their arms around him and making him stumble back a step. Ahote would’ve shoved the person away if he hadn’t caught sight of brown-gold dreaded hair and mahogany skin.

A quiet chuckle bubbled out of Ahote’s throat as he wrapped his own arms around Lúcio. “I missed you, too,” he mumbled.

Lúcio pulled back too soon for Ahote’s liking, but he had a big grin on his face. “That was to make sure you weren’t hiding any injuries,” he said.

“What’s the prognosis?” Ahote asked, taking a step back to put some space between them, though he couldn’t help but reflect Lúcio’s grin.

“All clear,” Lúcio replied, crossing his arms and adopting a professional expression. “Mostly. You need a good shower.”

Ahote’s smile dropped at that. “I’m sure I do,” he said, trying to fight off the embarrassed blush. “Do you think--”

“Yeah, you should be fine,” Lúcio said with a nod. “Winston wants to say some stuff, but he said he’ll wait for you guys to get comfortable.”

Ahote nodded, cool relief rushing through him. He was safe. He wasn’t a prisoner. “Good,” he murmured, glancing down the hall. They were alone--McCree and Hanzo must’ve already gone off to shower. He looked back at Lúcio and opened his mouth to say bye, but Lúcio interrupted him.

“I’m glad you’re back,” Lúcio said, the words flowing out quickly as if he’d been chewing on them for a while. He gave Ahote a small grin.

Ahote returned the grin with a small nod. “Same here,” he said, then glanced down the hall again. “I’ll see you in a bit.”

“For sure,” Lúcio said with a nod before they parted ways--Ahote walking to the showers, Lúcio walking...somewhere else. Probably to find someone else.

Ahote spent more time in the shower than he probably should’ve, but he couldn’t help himself. He wanted to imagine he was washing off the prison, the feelings of despair he’d felt in it rolling off of his body in sheets of water. He caught himself staring at a point on the metallic wall, and shifted only to stare up at the ceiling, just above the showerhead as he robotically massaged clean-smelling shampoo into his scalp.

He wondered what would happen. Overwatch couldn’t keep operating, not with the UN knowing about them; they would be arrested again in no time. Ahote knew Winston wouldn’t be able to sit still for a long time--or any of the others, probably. They would be up and running again in no time--Ahote hoped, anyway.

As Ahote stepped under the running water, the shampoo sliding out of his hair, he considered what he personally would do. He didn’t know--he still had to hide from Talon, that much was certain. Kronos might’ve revived the search for him, seeing how close he was. Maybe he’d go back to Arizona--Phoenix, or Flagstaff again. Maybe he’d go somewhere different; New York had a lot of people he could blend in with, he was sure. And Lúcio would like--

He stopped his thoughts abruptly. Lúcio had plans of his own, probably. He _had_ to. They wouldn’t see each other until Overwatch reunited, probably. The thought made a frown cross Ahote’s face, and made his nose burn with the fuzzy urge of tears. He didn’t want to say goodbye to Lúcio. He didn’t like the thought of not seeing him every day--or close to it, anyway.

Ahote drizzled flowery conditioner into his palm, a troubled frown still on his face. He wanted to keep denying it, wanted to keep believing he only felt friendship for Lúcio, but he wasn’t stupid. Ahote’s heart ached at the thought of never seeing his bright smile or hearing his shining laugh again. He didn’t want to miss any of Lúcio’s jokes.

But he would have to, he decided as he stepped under the spray of water again. Without Overwatch, they had no reason to stick together, did they? Ahote might’ve had--his thoughts shied away from admitting to it--but he was unsure if Lúcio felt the same way. Even then, it would’ve been foolish to stick together; there was the threat of Talon. Ahote knew already he would never forgive himself if they hurt Lúcio.

As Ahote stepped out of the shower, water dripping from his hair and his skin, he couldn’t help but think about how dark the future would be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations, yet again, provided by the gr8 gr8 gr8 alice ajliddy.tumblr.com!!!


	21. Future

Ahote stepped out of the shower room with his hair unbound, rubbing the moisture out of it with a fluffy white towel. He was in a large black T-shirt with a faded roaring tiger on the front--courtesy of McCree, since all of Ahote’s shirts were torn or otherwise stained with blood--and sweatpants.

He padded silently, feet covered with soft white socks, down the halls of the airship, looking for someone to tell him whether Winston’s meeting had started yet. He opened a door leading to the gathering area. Lúcio was there, sitting on a round table. Nicola, Corazon, Hanzo, and McCree were seated in plush chairs around the table Lúcio was on. Reclining in a seat to the side was Cyril--or Cyril’s body; they didn’t look very active.

McCree was the first to see Ahote. He tipped his hat and said, “Howdy, Ahote.” He gave a knowing wink. “Nice shirt.”

Ahote frowned down at the shirt. “Thanks.” He looked back up at McCree, a grin teasing the edge of his lips as he said, “It fits _purr_ fect.”

Various groans (and a snicker from Lúcio, Ahote was glad to note) arose from the group as Ahote sat down. Cyril’s voice called from the next seat over, “You’re lucky I’m all the way over here, A-hole.”

Ahote furrowed his brow at Cyril. “You’re not dead?” he asked, no longer drying his hair, the towel wrapped around the back of his neck.

“ _Fuck_ no!” Cyril said. They turned their head a little to focus their bored gaze on him. “Why? Disappointed?”

“No,” Ahote said. “You were just….”

“I got fucked the hell up,” Cyril substituted. “Luckily, the OFPD or what-the-fuck-ever--”

“OPPF,” Corazon supplied, a patient smile on her face.

“Yeah, the OFPD knows how to treat an omnic _right_ ,” Cyril finished.

“That’s good,” Ahote said, then glanced at Nicola and Corazon. “And Orochi?”

“Safely in the custody of the OPPF,” she replied crisply. “We’ve already discussed it with Winston, and he believes it best we keep it for the time being.”

Ahote frowned, but he decided against questioning it. If Winston was fine with it, then who was Ahote to bring up an issue? And besides, Nicola _had_ been the one to break them out of prison. He, at the very least, deserved some modicum of trust for that.

“Anyways,” McCree said with a body-heaving sigh, “is anyone else starvin’?”

“I’m surprised you did not bring it up sooner,” Hanzo said drily.

“I was waitin’ for a lull in the conversation,” McCree said as he stood up, patting his thighs. “I ain’t _rude_.”

“That is subjective,” Hanzo replied.

“Jesse has the right idea,” Corazon cut in. “Regaining your strength is what all three of you should be doing,” she added with a glance at Hanzo and Ahote.

Hanzo hummed quietly, even as he stood up as well. “That will take time,” he said. “Besides, we ate dinner only a few hours ago.”

“Then if nobody’s comin’ with,” McCree drawled, already walking over to the doorway, “I’m gonna go scrounge up some grub myself.”

“I am going to go find Winston,” Hanzo said. “Someone should inform him we are settled.”

“Ah!” Nicola cried, jumping to his feet. “I will come with you! There are some things that Pa--ah, the godfather would like for me to discuss with Winston.”

“Seriously?” Lúcio asked, a grin quirking his face. “Your boss is called the godfather?”

Nicola shrugged his shoulders. “He lives for the illusion,” he said helplessly as he followed Hanzo to the door. “I will see you all later!”

Lúcio looked at Corazon, a grin still on his face. “You guys _are_ like a real mafia, huh?”

Corazon shrugged a shoulder. “The godfather tries his best to make it seem that way,” she said.

“Best damn mafia _I’ve_ ever met!” Cyril threw in.

They were interrupted by a chirping from Corazon’s wristband. She jumped a little, then promptly turned it off as she stood up. “Time for more diagnostics, Cyril.”

“Did I say best?” Cyril asked. “I meant worst. The cruelest.”

“Come on,” Corazon said as Cyril dragged themself up from their chair. “It isn’t _all_ bad.”

“Yes it is,” Cyril lamented.

“It’s better than losing functionality of your legs in the middle of a fight, isn’t it?” Corazon asked as she walked towards the door, Cyril following after her.

Ahote didn’t get to hear Cyril’s response as the door slid shut behind the pair. He and Lúcio stared at each other for a moment before Ahote said, “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say they planned that.”

“It _was_ a little too convenient,” Lúcio said with a quiet laugh as he spun around on the table to face Ahote.

They were silent for a moment, Lúcio tapping his thumbs together as he looked around the room, at anything but Ahote. Ahote frowned at the behavior, and asked, “Is...something on your mind?”

Lúcio blinked, looking at Ahote with wide eyes before he looked down at his fidgeting hands. He gave a sigh, and a small grin as he looked back at Ahote. “That obvious?”

Ahote shrugged a shoulder. “I could pretend like I didn’t notice, if you want,” he offered.

“No,” Lúcio sighed, “thanks, but it’s fine. It’s...probably good you noticed.”

“Is everything okay?” Ahote asked with a frown, his brow furrowed with concern. He shifted a little forward in his seat, closer to Lúcio, so he could look him in the eye.

“Yeah,” Lúcio said with a nod. “It’s nothing bad, don’t worry. I’m just...nervous.” He averted his eyes.

“Nervous?” Ahote prompted when Lúcio didn’t continue.

“I mean,” Lúcio said, returning his gaze to his clasped hands, “I...wanna tell you something.”

Fear and worry wrenched Ahote’s heart, but he forced himself to stay calm. “I’m here,” he said. “You can tell me anything. Take your time.”

“Okay,” Lúcio breathed out. “Now or never,” he muttered to himself, before he looked up at Ahote. “I...I’m not good at this, usually,” he said, an apologetic grin on his face. “But, I mean, you make it easier, because, like I said, you’re not subtle at all,” he said with a huff of laughter.

Ahote furrowed his brows, warmth blooming in his chest. “Subtle with what?”

“C’mon, Aho, you’ve _gotta_ know,” Lúcio said. He shook his head before Ahote replied. “Nevermind, nevermind, I don’t wanna assume. Just….” He gave a sigh, looking into Ahote’s eyes with an earnest face. “I like you.” When Ahote opened his mouth, cheeks warming a little, Lúcio quickly added, “I mean, _really_ like you.” He waited a beat, then added, “As more than a friend.” When Ahote thought he could finally answer, Lúcio continued, “Romantically.” He grimaced. “Sorry, you can go now.”

If Ahote’s face hadn’t been on fire before, it was then. “I--uh,” he stumbled over his words, a fuzzy worm curling and tickling in his gut. He knew he had to say something--he even knew what he wanted to say--but he couldn’t force the words out. His mind was flying through a crowd of clouds, obscuring any intelligent thought outside of _Holy shit_ and _He feels the same_.

“Aho…?” Lúcio asked, watching Ahote carefully. “You okay in there, buddy?”

Ahote shook his head once he realized he’d been sitting in silence for the past who-knows-how-long, staring at Lúcio. “Sorry,” he said quickly. “I--”

He was interrupted by a loud buzzing over the speakers of the airship. “Is this thing on?” Lehana’s voice asked. There was a patting sound--probably as she tapped the microphone to test it--before she said, “Whatever. If you can hear this, Winston is calling a meeting in the conference room right now. You’d better get there as spoon as possible!” Lehana giggled to herself before there was another loud buzz, then silence.

Ahote and Lúcio continued staring at one another for a moment before Lúcio gave a grin, an embarrassed blush on his cheeks as he shot to his feet. “You, um, need some time,” he guessed. “To process it, right? Don’t worry about it--take as long as you need. I can wait.”

When Lúcio moved to walk away, Ahote’s instincts shot his hand up, grabbing Lúcio’s wrist. Lúcio looked down at him with a confused frown. Ahote promised, “After the meeting. We’ll talk more about it then.”

Lúcio gave a nod and a strained smile before Ahote let him go. He wait until Lúcio left the room before he got up himself. He let his internal autopilot navigate him to the conference room while his thoughts raced.

His stomach was hot with shame and guilt. He shouldn’t have frozen up like that--but he’d been so surprised. If he’d only had a few more moments to say something, then he would’ve been able to do it.

He found himself fidgeting as he walked down the halls. He wished he knew what was going through Lúcio’s head. He’d said Ahote wasn’t subtle--did he already know? But the smile right before he’d walked away hadn’t been one of relief or joy, it’d been pained. Ahote didn’t want to have to sit through a meeting with that smile hanging on his conscience.

He realized when the door in front of him revealed the cockpit that he had no idea where the conference room was. Lehana, at the controls of the airship, looked over her shoulder at him. “ _You_ look lost,” she said.

He nodded. “I am,” he said. “Where’s the conference room?”

Lehana leaned back in her seat, gesturing vaguely as she spoke. “Down the hall, take a left, take the third right, and it’s got big double-doors.”

“Thanks,” Ahote said. He turned around, then looked over his shoulder at her. “You’re not coming?”

“Nah,” she said with a wave of her hand. “Someone’s gotta fly this thing.”

“There’s an autopilot, isn’t there?”

“I thought you’d be too new to know about it,” Lehana grumbled, then sighed. “I just don’t wanna go. Winston already told me what he’s saying, and it’ll be _boring_ just sitting there.”

“So you’d rather just sit here,” Ahote said. When Lehana nodded, he shrugged. “Alright, then. Have fun,” he said as he stepped out.

“You too!” Lehana called right before the door shut behind him.

Ahote quickly followed Lehana’s directions, finding the conference room in no time. He was the last one to show up; everyone else was already standing around the table. He squeezed himself in between Rorth and Cyril. He almost immediately made eye contact with Lúcio, standing on the opposite side of the table. Ahote tried to give him a smile, but Lúcio looked away too quickly to see it. Ahote’s heart gave a nervous lurch.

“Fuckin’ figures _you’d_ be late,” Cyril said quietly.

“I got lost,” Ahote replied, glancing at Cyril.

“Amateur,” Cyril grumbled.

“Which one of us was almost killed in a warehouse, again?” Ahote asked, not in the mood for Cyril’s banter.

“That was _martyrdom_ , not amateurity,” Cyril said.

“It was stupid is what it was,” Ahote grumbled.

“Are you two quite finished?” Winston asked from the other side of the table. When Ahote looked over at him, he grimaced at the glare Winston was giving them.

“Sorry--” Ahote started to say, but Cyril cut him off.

“Sorry, big guy,” Cyril said. “A-hole over here just started fuckin’ insultin’ me. Had to defend myself, y’know?”

“We’re done,” Ahote said, cutting a sharp glance at Cyril out of the corner of his eye. “Sorry.”

“Right,” Winston said slowly, eyeballing them before he shook his head. “Let’s start, then,” he said. “This...isn’t gonna be an easy meeting.”

“ _That’s_ reassurin’,” McCree grumbled, a few people to the left of Ahote, his arms crossed.

“In light of recent events--” Winston said, “--namely, the UN investigation into Overwatch, I have decided that it would be best if we ceased all activity for now.” His shoulders fell a little at the statement.

Ahote frowned--disappointed, and a little nervous, but not surprised. Rorth, however, couldn’t keep the shock out of his voice as he said, “What? But I just got here!”

“I know,” Winston said, giving Rorth an apologetic glance. “The irony that most of you aren’t even official members--or are brand new members--doesn’t escape me. It’s saddening, but it has to be this way; we can’t give the UN any more reasons to arrest any of us. It won’t always be a few fines.” His gaze levelled on Ahote. “And for some of you, arrest will mean a lot more.”

“Y’said _for now_?” McCree asked. “Meanin’ we’ll be back in th’saddle again soon?”

“Someday,” Winston said with a nod. “I won’t let Overwatch die--never again. The world _needs_ it, needs _us_.”

“So...what do we do until then?” Ahote asked. “Get a job at some fast-food restaurant, wait for you to give us a call?”

“Pretty much,” Winston said with a shrug. “But just because Overwatch is going on hiatus doesn’t mean _we_ do. We’re still all connected, still all part of the same fight--to make the world a better place. That makes us a family. And I want you all to know that if you ever need help with anything, you can give me a call. I think I speak for all the Overwatch members when I say that.”

“I think I might fuckin’ cry,” Cyril droned. “Can we go now?”

“That’s all I wanted to discuss,” Winston said. “I’ll drop everyone off wherever they’d like to go,” he said, watching Cyril as they walked out of the room, the door sliding shut behind them. “...Okay,” he grumbled, shaking himself out. “There’s a queue in Athena’s system. Just access it from any terminal and input wherever you’d like to go, and we’ll get you there. We’ll be stopping at Gibraltar first, so you all can get any belongings you need.” A shimmery look entered his eye. “You all did a fine job.”

“C’mon, boss, don’t cry!” Rorth said. “Then _I’m_ gonna cry!”

“I’m not crying,” Winston said roughly, reaching up to rub at an eye under his glasses. “It’s a gorilla thing. We have...wet eyes. There’s just a lot of liquid buildup sometimes and--”

“Y’can cry, big guy,” McCree drawled. “Might get a group hug, too, if y’want.”

“We’re not saying goodbye for a while yet,” Winston said. “I’m fine. Meeting adjourned.”

McCree made his way, chuckling, over to Winston, along with Genji, Corazon, and Rorth. Hanzo looked a little lost for a moment, but he ultimately followed Nicola out of the room.

Ahote glanced around, and caught Lúcio walking nonchalantly past, looking anywhere but at Ahote. Ahote quickly fell into step beside him, saying, “I promised you a chat.”

“Oh, did you?” Lúcio asked, glancing at Ahote for only a moment. “I must’ve, uh, forgotten. See, I made plans with Ro to--”

Ahote shook his head. “You don’t have to avoid me, Lúcio.”

“Whaaaat?” Lúcio asked. “I’m not _avoiding_ you, I’m just….” He trailed off for a moment. “Trying...not...to have this--yeah, I’m avoiding,” he sighed. “Sorry. Force of habit.”

They were walking slowly down the empty hallway--to where, Ahote didn’t know, but that didn’t particularly matter at that moment. He leaned forward a little, giving Lúcio a reassuring smile. “There’s nothing to be afraid of,” he said. “I...uh,” he said, suddenly losing his nerve and leaning back, a blush coming over his cheeks as he looked away.

“You...?” Lúcio asked. He stopped walking, and Ahote stopped as well. They turned to face each other.

Ahote frowned down at Lúcio, trying to find the courage to say what he wanted to say--but it was nowhere to be found. “I’m...not great at words,” he said apologetically. He continued, an idea popping into his head, “Actions are better for me.” He slowly leaned his head forward, inch by inch.

“Actions, huh?” Lúcio asked quietly, a lazy smirk quirking his mouth. Ahote didn’t miss his eyes glancing down for a second.

“Actions,” Ahote confirmed in a whisper. He held back before their lips touched, wondering if he should ask first. He decided that Lúcio would’ve said something if he wasn’t okay with it, then gently pushed forward one more inch, closing the gap.

He’d intended for it to last only a second, but after their lips brushed, Ahote’s eyes fluttered closed, and he leaned forward even more, gently but firmly pressing his lips against Lúcio’s. He lost track of his hands, one reaching up to curl against Lúcio’s jaw, but was hyperaware of Lúcio’s hands, one on his shoulder and the other curling in Ahote’s hair, thumb on his cheek.

Ahote wasn’t sure if he was a bad kisser or not--he’d never really had a chance before to try it out--but Lúcio’s lips made him not care. They were smooth and tasted vaguely of coconut chapstick. Ahote didn’t ever want to part; he wanted to lose himself in that moment, with his heart soaring and pounding, and his eyes ready to leak liquid joy.

But when his lungs started burning, he was sure Lúcio’s were, too, so he did pull back, his brain dizzy. When Ahote opened his eyes, they immediately locked onto Lúcio’s. Lúcio had a toothy smile on his face, his cheeks flushed a little.

“Does that help?” Ahote asked, voice a little raw. “Do I need to say it?”

“It’d be nice to hear,” Lúcio said with a soft laugh. “But I get it if you can’t, yet.”

Ahote nodded, giving Lúcio a small smile. “Thanks,” he muttered. A thought entered his head suddenly, though, and he pulled away from Lúcio, dropping his hands to his sides.

“What’s wrong?” Lúcio asked, a frown crossing his face as well. His own hands dropped, too, but he reached out to link an index finger with one of Ahote’s.

Ahote liked the warmth it provided. He focused on that as he said, “We won’t see each other for a long time, will we? After we all get dropped off.”

“Why not?” Lúcio asked.

“Well,” Ahote said, looking at Lúcio’s face, “you have plans, don’t you? It’s only natural that we’d part ways.”

Lúcio snorted, an amused grin covering his face. “You think I’d make plans that couldn’t include you?”

Ahote blinked. “What?”

Lúcio let out a laugh at that. “I wouldn’t confess if I was just planning on going away,” he said. “We can stick together. If--if you want,” he hastily added. “I don’t wanna force you into anything, so--”

“Lúcio,” Ahote interrupted, staring solemnly into Lúcio’s eyes. “There’s nothing I’d love more than sticking by your side.”

Lúcio let out a flustered laugh, his fingers intertwining more with Ahote’s. “That was awful sappy,” he said. He gave a sincere smile then, his eyes twinkling. “But...I’m glad to hear it.”

Ahote’s cheeks hurt with how hard he was smiling at Lúcio, but he felt on top of the world. He could’ve soared over the moon, or punched Kronos in the face with no repercussions.

With Lúcio by his side, the future suddenly didn’t look so dismal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and there it is! the end !! boy am i glad that's over, lmao.
> 
> i don't usually like doing long author notes but for this i'll make an exception; i'd like to thank the Squad™ for encouraging me through this fic and for letting me use their babies!! i wouldn't have finished this without them :) (to refresh everyone's memory, i'll put a list of them at the end of this note)
> 
> thank you to anyone and everyone that's gotten this far; i appreciate all the kudoses, comments, and even just plain ol hits. you've all done wonders for my ego!!
> 
> as of right now, i'm not planning a sequel, but who knows?? anything could happen, i guess, and if i suddenly explode with popularity overnight, we'll see, lol!


End file.
